Our Duty
by ChocolateTurnip
Summary: When Alin Radacanu rescues a wounded enemy pilot from an airship crash, he is forced to choose between his services to his country and the uncontrollable desire he begins to develop. But is Tsvetan Borisov really the innocent victim he seems, or does he have other plans in store? RoBul, Steampunk AU. Essentially a story about love and duty, and which is stronger in the face of war.
1. Prologue

***There are two reasons for this story's existence. One is that it's Veronica-for-Cuba's (on deviantart) birthday and I wanted to write her a RoBul. The other is that there's a steampunk competition (also on deviantart) and since it's a favourite genre of mine, I was dying to enter. Somehow, the two ideas merged.**

**Tsvetan- Bulgaria**

**Stelios- Cyprus***

* * *

He'd piloted in storms before, but never quite like this one. This one was different; the sort of storm that dominated the entire sky. Lightning tore through the thin fabric of the clouds, followed by thunderclaps so loud they rang in his ears. Against the airship's surface, the pitter-patter of raindrops pummelled into the metal.

For the first time in his life, Tsvetan's hands shook as he managed the controls. He could hear his colleagues shout from behind- Sadik ordering Gupta to check the air pressure, Stelios yelling something about a jammed propeller- but he ignored them and focused on the sky ahead. It was so dark outside- much too dark for mid-afternoon. Aside from the jagged mountaintops miles below, he could barely see a thing.

Tsvetan gave his compass a quick glance and discovered that they were veering West. Completely the opposite direction to their destination. Cursing his own stupidity, he turned the ship around.

"Hey."

Tsvetan turned to see Heracles kneeling beside the control panel, looking up at him with doleful eyes.

"Are you… nervous?" Heracles asked, clearly noticing his disposition.

Tsvetan nodded. "A bit."

"Don't be." He clapped a supportive hand on his shoulder. "You're a good pilot… we'll see this through."

Again, Tsvetan nodded though he couldn't quite share Heracles' optimism. It was true that he was a good pilot- he'd graduated from Hepworth's top airman school with flying colours (literally)- but he wasn't _this_ good. Nobody was this good.

"Captain?" Heracles held his hand, a small piece of metal resting in his palm, "Could you… look after this for me? Please?"

Tsvetan briefly looked away from the controls and took it from him. It was ring made of pure silver with a kind of bird welded on top. A robin or a swallow or something.

"It's Kiku's." Heracles said, "He said it would… bring us luck. But it won't fit on my fingers."

"Right. Well, I'll take it you want me to." Tsvetan reached under his shirt and tucked the ring away in a compartment of his shoulder strap. _Bring us luck… great job it's done so far._

He was about to check the navigator again when there was a sudden flash of light and the soft sound of ripping material. The whole ship shuddered with the impact. Tsvetan and Heracles exchanged panicked glances.

"Oh fuck!" Sadik cried from the engine room, "We've been hit! Quick, lower her, lower her! Get the cold air into her, fast!"

Cold air… what was the use of cold air when there was a split in the bag? It was the moment that every pilot dreaded and that none survived. Tsvetan's blood ran cold at the thought. _None survived._

He slammed on the brakes as the ship began to plummet and pulled the control lever up so hard that he almost yanked it out. But even this wasn't enough. Nothing could be enough to slow a falling airship and all of them knew it.

With some difficulty, Heracles stumbled to his feet and attempted to run back to the engine room.

"Take cover!" he yelled, uncharacteristically urgent, "We're going to crash, we're going to-"

He tripped as the floor slanted and he sprawled to the floor.

The airship began to pick up speed as it fell, hurtling towards the waiting jaws of the mountains. Finally, Tsvetan let go of the controls. It was useless even trying. Childish too, to pretend they had a hope. As his colleagues howled and moaned behind him, Tsvetan had only one thought left, clear in the forefront of his mind.

_I'm going to die._

All he could do was brace himself.


	2. Enemy of the Country

***In this chapter, the Walker which Alin and Erzsébet are piloting probably looks a little something like the Google Images results from 'Steampunk' and 'Walker'**

**Also,** a **gondola in steampunk context isn't a boat in Italy, but the part of an airship which people sit in. Warnings for character death.**

**Alin Radacanu- Romania**

**Andrei- Moldova***

"Radacanu, we really ought to head back."

Ignoring his co-driver's advice, Alin continued to manoeuvre their vehicle. This was a particularly tricky section of mountains he was having to navigate through (trust the boss to give them the hardest scouting routes). The last thing he needed was to be distracted by Erzsébet Héderváry, of all people.

"Seriously, we should." Erzsébet said again, her stupid voice grating, "It's getting dark now, you might make a mistake."

Alin suppressed a snort with difficulty. The very thought that he, the boy who'd been driving mechanical Walkers since the age of five, would slip up now was ludicrous. Besides, he knew she had another motive for her impatience.

"You're not doing anything with that fancy architect tonight, are you?" he asked her, "What's-his-name Edelstein?"

She blushed. "Th-that's none of your businesses!"

Which meant in Erzsébet-speak that he'd guessed correctly.

"Well, your personal life is none of my concern," he said with a shrug, "But isn't is a bit selfish, putting a date above the Kingdom of Ryder's safety?"

"I never implied that!"

Alin flashed her a grin. "Chuck some more coal on the fire, Héderváry. The fuel's running low."

She scowled at him as she did so, causing his grin to widen. Of course, he didn't really care about the safety of his country or any of that shit. The authorities had become obsessed with the idea ever since they started the war against the Republic of Hepworth about a year ago, but Alin found it impossible to take the idea of an invasion seriously. No, his reasons, like Erzsébet's, were selfish ones. After all, the longer they spent scouting each day, the higher their wages. And the higher his wages, the better-quality the food he could buy for his brother. So perhaps not entirely selfish, then.

"Hey!" Erzsébet tugged at his arm, "Look at that!"

She was pointing out of the observation window, right down to the bottom. Alin squinted in attempt to see.

"What is it?"

"Use your eyes, dickhead."

Alin gave her a shove, before leaning forward to get a clear view. His breath caught in shock.

Down below, an airship had crashed at the foot of the mountains. It was difficult to make out the details, but he could see the air-bag lying deflated and forlorn on the ground like a burst balloon. And if he wasn't very much mistaken, fire embers were still consuming the wreckage of the gondola. Which meant that the accident had not happened all that long ago.

Alin turned back to Erzsébet, whose face was just as pale as his felt.

"_Fuck_…"

"It must have crashed in the storm earlier on," she said, "All of our scouting missions were cancelled then… looking at this it's not hard to see why."

Alin glanced back towards the wreckage. It looked so small from here, like nothing more than one of the toys his brother Andrei played with.

"Do you think there are any survivors?"

Erzsébet raised her eyes grimly. "Only one way to find out, isn't there? You'll have to go down and look."

"The hell?" Alin said, "Why has it got to be me, Héderváry? You're the one who found the damn thing!"

"Ah, but it was your suggestion to keep going. I wouldn't have spotted it if it wasn't for you."

Alin gave her a dirty look, but there was no point in arguing. He grabbed a harness from the slide and strapped it on as tightly as he could. At least he'd have a good story to tell Andrei when he came home tonight.

"Here," he gave Erzsbet the cord, "You'll have to lower me down. And don't you fucking dare pull any tricks this time."

Erzsébet attached the cord to a winch by the door of the Walker, smirking to herself. Probably from the memory of the last time he'd had to abseil out of the Walker. She'd dropped him nearly fifty feet for a laugh, catching him just before he hit the ground. Alin always knew that he had the worst co-driver in the world; it was a times like that when his suspicions were proven.

Having finished attaching the cord, Erzsébet looked up at him expectantly.

"Ready, Radacanu?"

He nodded. "Ready."

"Alright." she opened the door to the Walker, letting in a blast of bitter wind.

Alin shuddered, though not completely due to the cold. Gritting his teeth, he backed towards the door.

"See you in a moment, bitch!" he said and let himself fall back.

He dropped down a few heart-stopping feet before the winch came into action and snapped the cord steady. Suspended in mid-air, Alin rotated on the wire, his feet banging against the Walker's metal surface. He made the mistake of looking down and his stomach lurched.

"Alright, alright!" he shouted up to Erzsébet, "Start lowering me, dammit!"

Thankfully, she had the sense to obey.

With the winch's help, he descended further and further, past the Walker and down the side of the mountain. The wind bit into him from all angles and he wished he'd thought to put on an overcoat. In nothing more than a thin shirt and a waistcoat, he felt so unprepared.

After what felt like an age of being gradually lowered, Alin's feet finally made contact with the ground a few metres away from the wreckage. Miles above, Erzsébet was sticking her head out of the door to check that he had landed safely. Alin gave her a thumbs up sign and unattached his harness.

Close up, the sheer tragedy of the crash was palpable. The fires were low now, but the scorched surface of the airbag and the gondola told of how much they must have been blazing earlier on. The gondola itself had cracked down the middle, spilling broken gears and levers all around. Beside the split, a tall man in green uniform lay motionless against the metal. His neck was bent in a grotesquely-inhuman position. A white mask hung from his limp hand, caked in blood. Alin didn't even need to check his pulse to know that he was dead.

Despite its landing, the gondola was still more-or-less upright. Alin ventured inside, ignoring the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. A quick visit to what used to be the airship's engine room brought the discovery of the masked man's shipmates.

A man with blood all the way down his one-sided fringe. Dead.

A man with slashes cutting his head as well as his keffiyeh open. Dead.

A man whose once muscular chest had torn completely. Dead.

Alin closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to steady himself. With the war raging on, he'd seen plenty of dead bodies before, but never like these. Never ripped and mangled so mercilessly. Never tossed aside like nothing more than clockwork toys. Whenever nature and technology clashed, all life became meaningless.

It was with a huge amount of trepidation that Alin made his way to the control room. He couldn't remember the last time that his expectations had been so low, but he had to see if the pilot had made it. He _had_ to know.

But as he reached the door and pulled it open warily, Alin was greeted by a sound. A sound that was both wonderful and terrifying, and so startling that it felt almost unreal. The sound of a soft human moan.

Alin burst into the control room, his heart racing. He didn't have far to look. There, slumped in the seat he had flown in, was the pilot. The first thought running through Alin's mind was how young he was to be commanding an airship; the man barely looked older than him. The second was to note the colour of his uniform. Green, just like his shipmates'. Only on the third thought did Alin notice that the pilot's chest was moving- moving up and down in a slow, struggling rhythm. He was alive.

Alin scooped the man gently into his arms and carried him from the wreckage. It was almost scary how light he was.

* * *

Back in the Walker, Alin sat upright against the pistons with the weight of an unconscious man cradled in his arms. I really did it, he thought for what must have been the hundredth time, I really completed a rescue mission. It might have been fifteen minutes since he'd found the pilot, but he was still entitled feel a little bit proud of himself, wasn't he?

He glanced down to check him over, but the shaking made it impossible. Alin frowned. He'd asked Erzsébet to drive back while he took care of the man, but now he was beginning to wish he'd just done it himself. Every one of the Walker's heavy footsteps echoed around the control room, sending vibrations through his body. After a particularly harsh jolt, he leaned out and nudged Erzsébet's arm.

"Hey! Watch it!"

She glared at him. "You told me to go as fast as I could. You can't expect it to be a smooth ride home."

"I know, but… just be careful alright?" Instinctively, Alin pulled the injured man closer to his body. "He doesn't need to be shaken up any more than he already is."

Erzsébet tutted at him, but slowed the Walker down a couple of notches all the same. Satisfied, Alin turned back to the man. It didn't exactly take a genius to work out that he was in a bad way. His left leg stuck out at an angle, all bent and twisted out of shape. Worse still, there was a gash across his forehead that looked so deep that it was a wonder his skull wasn't sticking out. Blood oozed from the cut, mingling in with his dark fringe and running down to his eyes.

If he survived this journey, it was going to be a miracle.

"You don't know anything about head wounds, do you?" Alin asked his co-driver.

It was a long shot, he knew, but perhaps if he performed some basic first-aid they could keep the man alive. At least until reaching the infirmary.

"Do I look like a medic, Radacanu?"

"Come on!" he urged, "You must remember something."

Back when they'd been training at driving school, injury treatment classes had been obligatory for all first years. Alin had spent most of the lessons daydreaming and doodling pictures of Walkers in the back of his book, but he was sure Erzsébet must have been paying attention.

She sighed. "Find something to cover it with, then. We don't have any bandages in here, so you'll have to make do with your clothes."

"Right."

Alin gently rested the man against the floor while he unbuttoned his waistcoat. Pulling off the shirt underneath, he wrapped it around the man's head so that it covered the wound. He finished by tying the sleeves into a tight knot just above his ear. There.

"Héderváry, is this okay?"

Erzsébet looked around before making a disgusted noise and turning back. "Ugh! Do you think I want to see your bare chest?

"But what about the bandage?" Alin said, "Is that okay?"

"Looked fine to me. Though I feel sorry for him, being wrapped up in something that touched your skin."

Several minutes passed in silence; Erzsébet driving, Alin clutching onto the man like his life depended on it. He wondered whether it was too hot for him inside the Walker. People going for their first ride often said that the blazing furnace and the bursts of steam from the pistons made it like sitting in the middle of hell. Having driven a Walker every day for the past two years, Alin had long gotten used to the heat, but he doubted it was doing much good to the newcomer.

He was just about to ask Erzsbet if it would be at all possible to open an air vent when she began to speak.

"Radacanu… you know who he is, don't you?"

Alin swallowed. Yes, he knew. He'd known from the moment he saw those bodies lying among the wreckage in their distinctive military gear. For the time being, though, he decided to play dumb.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be an idiot. Go on, tell me the colour of his uniform. And what it represents."

"It's green." Alin said, "The colour… the colour of the Hepworthian army."

"Exactly." Erzsébet said, "He's more than just a pilot. This man- the man whom you thought necessary to rescue and bandage up- he's an enemy of our country."

He'd known they were coming, but the words still struck Alin like he'd been slapped.

"Wh-what do you expect me to do about it?"

Erzsébet's gaze was piecing. "I think you know as well as I do that there's only one course of action we can take."

"No!" Alin spoke without hesitation. "We can't hand him to the guards, not while he's in this state."

Erzsébet shrugged. "Fine, if you don't, I will. And if you try to protect him, you'll be going the same way, you know."

A cold lump began to form in Alin's throat. He knew she was right; the law clearly stated that any enemies of the Kingdom of Ryder had to be delivered to the authorities on the pain of death. A duty. But, as Alin often told himself when he snuck Walker parts from storerooms or an extra piece of bred for his brother from the bakery, the law was not necessarily right in all circumstances.

"Héderváry," he said, slowly and fiercely so he knew she understood, "If you dare turn him in, I'll cut off your Edelstein's balls and throw them in the furnace."

Erzsébet started sniggering, but he cut her off (how very fitting).

"I mean it. I'll ambush him at night while he's still asleep. Like he'd be able to fight back."

"You wouldn't!" She was still smiling, but her voice sounded uncertain.

"I fucking would." Alin said grimly, "Hell, I'd even _enjoy_ it."

That seemed to shut her up.

Smirking, Alin turned his attentions back to the pilot. His breathing sounded a lot less ragged now, but his skin was still a deathly pale. It was strange really, he didn't look anything like an enemy of the country. His face had a rounded look about it and his features were soft, almost like a child's. His hair was a muted sort of coal colour, falling into effortless strands on either side of his forehead. Making sure that Erzsébet wasn't watching, Alin reached out and stroked his thumb over the man's cheek.

The strangest thing of all was that, without his wounds, this enemy of the country might even be… handsome.

* * *

It was well into evening by the time they arrived back in the capital. Infuriatingly, Erzsébet scurried off to prepare for her date at the first possible moment, leaving Alin alone to bring the unconscious pilot to safety. There were no stretchers in the Walker, so he tried his hardest to carry him in his arms instead. He tried his hardest not to notice the man's weight loss too, though the thought niggled like a worm in the back of his mind.

Breathless and with his arms aching like mad, he finally staggered through the doors of the infirmary. Aside from the beds, the room was entirely empty. Alin cursed.

"Katerina!" he called, "Get down here! Break time's over now!"

A moment or two passed, then the door opened and a boy about his brother's age walked through in a crisp medic's uniform.

"May I help you, Sir?"

"Yes! Get Kat- Dr Braginskaya." he shifted the pilot's weight against his other shoulder, "And tell her it's an _emergency_, dammit!"

The boy nodded and disappeared through the door. Alin took advantage of his absence to lie the man on the nearest bed, arranging his body in what he hoped would be the least painful way possible. If he was still capable of feeling pain, that was.

A minute later, the door opened again to reveal the doctor herself. Dr Yekaterina Braginskaya; the best medic in the entire city. Probably the best in the entire country too, come to that.

"Alin! Ravis told me there was a crisis?"

Wordlessly, Alin gestured to the bed. Katerina came over to see and gasped.

"Oh my! Whatever happened to him?"

"He's a hiker, I think." Alin said, "He'd already collapsed when Erzsébet and I found him in the mountains."

It was a plausible enough story. Alin had taken the liberty of removing the pilot's green uniform during the ride back so that he lay there in his underwear, innocent as could be. Besides, he'd heard plenty of horror tales about people who had died after getting lost in the mountains. The man even looked like he could be a hiker. Far more than an enemy of the country.

Katerina looked at the man's leg first, wincing as she noticed the shape, then pulled off Alin's makeshift forehead bandage to examine the wound. Taking a clockwork instrument out of her pocket, she wound the handle and placed it over his heart. Alin was alarmed to see a frown appear on her face when she checked the results.

"You will be able to heal him, won't you?"

Katerina ran a hand through her hair. "To be honest, I don't know. His heart rate is dangerously low. Judging by his injuries, I'd say he's been out cold for several hours."

Alin's stomach flipped over. "Can you at least try? Please?"

"Of course," she said, "He's a citizen of Ryder, after all."

Alin said nothing, but stared at his feet.

Bending down, Katerina flipped a switch on the side of the bed, causing the wheels to activate. "I think I'll have to take him into the intensive care unit. It's going to be a long night, for both of us."

Alin nodded, and held open the door as she pushed the bed through. "Katernia… thanks."

She smiled. "You're welcome. Be glad you found him when you did. At least now he has a chance."

A chance. Erzsébet was always telling him never to trust luck and uncertainties, but now it sounded like the most beautiful word in the world. He lingered by the door to watch Katerina pushing the bed further and further down the hallway, wondering how much that chance could account for. He bit his lip.

_Stay alive, enemy of our country,_ Alin found himself begging silently, _Please just stay alive_.


	3. Design and Assign

The next morning, Alin hurried down to the infirmary almost the minute after he awoke. Katerina and her assistant Ravis were already there. He noticed that there were bags under their eyes, a sign of what must have been the most exhausting night of their lives.

"Well?" Alin said breathlessly. He was almost too afraid to ask. "How- how is he?"

Katerina smiled at him, though it was not altogether a happy sort of smile. "See for yourself if you like."

Leading him down a bare hallway, she took him towards the intensive care unit. Alin followed close behind in silence and fiddled with the chain of his pocket-watch. He knew he was being stupid; there was no reason why he should care whether an enemy pilot lived or died. But all night he'd found himself haunted by the memory of the wreckage. The fires, the broken gears, the blood-soaked mask, the crumpled airbag… all imprinted vividly in his mind. It was in the moments when he'd woken up gasping, sweating and shaking all over that he knew he wanted the pilot to survive more than anything else in the world.

Finally, Katerina stopped by a vast wooden door sealed with a lock. She took out a ring of keys from her pocket and selected the biggest to open it.

"Alright." she said, standing back, "You can go in now, Alin."

Alin had never been inside the intensive care unit before and was immediately struck by how small it was. There were porthole-shaped windows along either side and a handful of beds, one of which was currently occupied. The patient was sitting up, the morning light from the windows catching his face to illuminate his every cut and bruise. Only when he turned his head did Alin recognise him as the pilot.

He looked different to how he was yesterday. Better, Alin told himself. Or maybe it was just due to the absence of a colossal gash cutting through his forehead. Katerina and Ravis had clearly done a good job on him. Every trace of blood had been cleaned away and the injury was replaced with a line of neat stitches. He'd even managed to regain consciousness; the striking grey eyes which Alin hadn't seen until now half-open to observe the world around him wearily.

The pilot smiled as he noticed Alin hanging in the doorway. Alin felt his heart lifting. When he smiled, the man's whole face seemed to change. It seemed to forget about its injuries, about the bruises it bore and the tragedy it had witnessed to simply indulge in the glory of being alive. That smile was singularly the most beautiful thing Alin had ever seen.

Shyly, he shuffled over to the pilot with his hands in his pockets and perched on the bed next to him. "Um, hello."

Why did he feel so awkward all of a sudden? This man owed him his life, after all.

"Hello." the pilot echoed. His voice was weak with pain, but still had a lilt to it. A foreign, enchanting sort of lilt.

"You're the one who rescued me, aren't you?" he said, "Dr Braginskaya told me you might visit."

Alin found himself grinning foolishly. "Bet she didn't tell you I was this handsome, did she?"

He cringed internally the moment he said it. What the hell was he doing? Did he want the pilot to think he was hitting on him or something? He quickly cleared his throat in attempt to amend for his mistake.

"Er, Alin Radacanu at your service."

To his relief, the man returned his smile. "Tsvetan Borisov."

Even his name had that feel of somewhere else. Alin was about to make a comment about how exotic it sounded before he stopped himself. Tsvetan must already be thinking that he was a bit of a weirdo; the last thing he wanted to do was prove him right.

"Where are the others?" Tsvetan asked, "There were five of us in total. You did find them too, didn't you?"

The hope in his tone was unbearable. Alin looked down and twisted his hands.

"I- I'm so sorry…"

He cursed himself as Tsvetan's eyes began to brim over and struggled to find another, less morbid topic. "Um… D'you have any family waiting for in you back in H- back home?"

Tsvetan screwed up his eyes. "N-no. My parents died and I was drafted into the Air Force when I was six. My sh-shipmates were the only family I ever had."

Alin chewed the edge of his lip. His own parents were long gone and he'd always counted himself unlucky for that, but at least he'd joined Ryder's Army out of choice. At least he still had Andrei to look after and to keep him sane. He tried to imagine what it would be like if Erzsebet was the only person he knew- then loosing her as well. Even the contemplation hurt.

He gave Tsvetan a moment longer to dry his tears on the sheets and compose himself.

"I'm sorry." he said again, though he knew it wouldn't do any good.

"No. It was my fault." His voice was steady, but deathly quiet. "I was going the wrong way when we were hit. It should have been me who- who went, not them."

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Me too." Tsvetan sat up a little straighter and winced. "My leg's killing me, though."

Did he mean that literally? Or-or was it just a turn of phrase. Alin dearly hoped the latter.

A moment passed in silence, then Tsvetan spoke again.

"Where am I? I don't mean the hospital, just… where?"

Alin's heart sank. He knew this conversation had to come up sooner or later and he'd been dreading it.

"This is Dunning City." he told him, "In… in the Kindgom of Ryder."

"In _Ryder_?" Tsvetan's eyes were wide and he whispered the word like it was some kind of awful secret. "O-oh. Oh _shit_."

Alin rolled his eyes. "Not doing a very good job of disguising your identity, are you? You'll have to work harder than that if you want more treatment."

"Wait a minute," Tsvetan stared at him incredulously, "You mean to say that you _know_? You know where I come from?"

"I found you, of course I know." Alin said, "It's so obvious that you work as a pilot for Hepw-"

"Shhh shhh, not so loud!" He glanced fearfully towards the door, almost as if he expected a bunch of guards to burst through right there and then. "Does anyone else know?"

"Erzsébet does- she's the one I found you with. But don't worry, she won't tell either. I've made sure of that much."

Tsvetan collapsed back against the pillows and closed his eyes. "Alin… thank you. I owe you everything."

Hearing his praise made Alin glow with pleasure inside. He tried not to seem too smug and he rested a supportive hand on Tsvetan's shoulder.

"Don't worry. Until your leg's fixed, I'll make everyone think you're the perfect citizen of Ryder. It'll be so convincing, even you'll start to believe it yourself!"

"Thanks." Tsvetan said. Then he frowned. "But, I don't understand. You work for the Ryder Army, don't you. So why are you helping me? Why aren't you handing me over to the government instead?"

For that, Alin had no answer.

* * *

When Alin left the unit, he found Katerina still waiting for him outside. Her head was politely averted and there were no signs on her face that she'd overheard any of their conversation. Alin wasted no time in pulling her into a crushing hug.

"Al-Alin!" She shrieked slightly as their chests collided. "I don't think this is-"

"Thanks, Katerina." he whispered into her ear, "Thank you for looking after him. It means… a lot to me."

He gave her another squeeze before they broke apart. Katerina seemed equally flustered and immensely relived. Straightening her medic's jacket, she retrieved the set of keys from her pocket.

"Can I keep visiting him?" Alin asked her as she locked the door. "I want to check he's still okay, you know? I've never rescued anyone before."

The last pat was not strictly-speaking true, but he considered it best that she thought otherwise.

"Of course you may. I'd prefer if you didn't hug me again like that, though." she added a little sternly.

"Heh, sorry." He rubbed the back of his head. "I was just relieved, that's all. I'm so glad you managed to heal him."

Katerina looked at him and sighed. That same, bittersweet smile as before twisted on her lips like an unpleasant taste. The smile that was more like a frown. All of a sudden, Alin felt sick with panic.

"Kat, what is it? What aren't you telling me?"

Putting a finger to her lips, she beckoned him to come closer.

"I didn't want to have to tell you this. Not even Tsvetan knows yet." she muttered, "But we haven't managed to heal him. His leg already has gangrene and soon the infection will spread. If we don't amputate it within a week, he's going to die."

Alin's jaw dropped. _No_. Tsvetan couldn't have an amputation, he just couldn't. How would he be able to pilot an airship if he couldn't reach the foot pedals? More to the point, how would _he_ be able to hide him from the authorities when he only had one leg?

"There must be _something_-"

"I'm afraid there isn't." Katerina said, "I've already tried all the antibiotics we have but he's not responding to them. It's the only option."

"So, he'll never be able to walk again?!"

She shook her head and slipped the chain of keys away. "Unless you stumble across a clockwork leg between that time, it's highly unlikely." She took out a pocket-watch to check the time. "I think I'll have to get going now, Alin. But thank you kindly for stopping by."

Alin gave a lazy salute in her direction but his heart wasn't in it really. As soon as she walked out of sight, he pounded his fist against the wall. _I'm so sorry Tsvetan_. He lashed out again and kicked it this time, venting as much frustration as he could through his foot. _I tried. Really, I did_. When he closed his eyes, the images of Tsvetan's dead shipmates flooded his mind, accompanied this time by their pilot, bound in the chains of the Ryderian authorities.

Unless…

_Unless_…

Katerina had given him an option, hadn't she? _Unless you stumble across a clockwork leg in that time_. Yes, that was what she'd told him. _A clockwork leg_.

Alin knew very little about technologically engineered body parts. Mechanics had never been a subject that particularly interested him; just as long as you could drive the thing he didn't care how it was made. But as far he knew, limb replacements were a new, state-of-the-art technology, only available for purchase in the Capital for an extremely high price. He wouldn't be able to afford that even if he sold his house. Hell, he probably wouldn't be able to afford that even if he sold his _brother_.

This left him one option. Somehow, Alin Radacanu was going to build a clockwork leg.

* * *

"Brother, what are you doing?"

Alin didn't even look up from his piece of paper. "Drawing."

He decided that would have to do for an explanation. The idea of teaching a nine-year-old the ins and outs of clockwork technology was a highly unappealing one.

"A-liiiiin!" To his annoyance, Andrei hopped up on the bench next to him and tugged at his shirt. "I'm hungry. Are we going to have breakfast soon?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Alin gripped the top of the pencil and drew out a long oblong shape as carefully as he could. Legs _were_ a sort of oblong shape, weren't they? Oh, and they had kneecaps too. He added a circle approximately in the middle.

"What's that?" Andrei asked, squinting, "Is it supposed to be a sausage?"

Alin gritted his teeth. "It's a leg."

"Aha! I can see it now." Giggling, Andrei pointed at Alin's drawing. "But you forgot to draw the foot!"

"Right! Thanks for that."

He started tracing out a heel at the bottom. Damn, how many toes did people have again? Five? Yeah, that was it.

"Alin, what's this for?"

"Hmmm?" Alin said vaguely as he tried to give the ankle more definition. Probably just looked even worse now, like a cog randomly stuck on the end of a piece of wood.

"You never usually do drawing." said Andrei, "Is it for a special occasion?"

Alin tore his eyes away from the sketch. "Do you remember that pilot I told you about last night?"

"The one with the handsome face?"

"Yep, he's the- wait, handsome face? Did I say that?" Alin gave himself a shake, "Anyway, it turns out that he needs a new leg, so guess what? Your big bro is going to make one for him."

"Oh." To credit Andrei, he did look like he was _trying_ to sound impressed. He picked up the paper and stared at it with his head tilted to the side. "Isn't it going to be a bit… small?"

Alin was just contemplating whether banging his head on the table would be setting a bad example when the door opposite trembled without warning. It burst open a moment later and a couple tumbled into the entrance of the Drivers' building, shamelessly making out like a pair of eels. As hard as it was to recognise the girl as Erzsébet when she was practically having her mouth sucked off, Alin managed it somehow. The flower she always wore in the side of her hair was a dead giveaway.

"Oi, get a room!" he shouted, putting his pen down, "My brother's watching this, you sickos!"

They broke apart as messily as they kissed. The man- Edelstein he presumed- adjusted his top hat and cleared his throat awkwardly but there was so much venom in Erzsébet's glare that her eyes alone could have poisoned the entire Hepworthian army.

"Oh, it's _you_." she said, with roughly the same amount of affection you might give to something on the bottom on your shoe, "Why the hell are you at work so early, Radacanu?"

Alin chuckled. "If you're complaining about me working longer hours then I won't bother in future."

"You know that's not what I meant! You don't have another shift here until after-" she trailed off as he returned to his drawing, "What are you even _d__oing_ with that?"

"None of your businesses!"

He instantly realised that was a mistake. Prancing up to the table, Erzsébet swiped the piece of paper out of his hands. Alin leapt to his feet.

"Give it back!"

"Oh my God!" she held it just out of his reach, beside herself with glee, "You spend your spare time drawing sausages? What a weirdo!"

"It's a not a flipping sausage! It's a _leg_!" he swiped the paper back and began jabbing his finger at parts of the sketch. "See? Thigh, kneecap, foot. How many sausages have those?"

His outburst didn't do anything to improve the situation. Erzsébet was giggling like a schoolgirl and Andrei had started to join in with her (_the traitor_). Even Erzsébet's boyfriend appeared to be concealing a grin. Alin felt the tips of his ears go red.

"Idiots. This thing is actually important, you know!"

Scowling, he resumed his seat and bent low over the paper. Would it be too excessive to add toenails? It might be pretty tricky to make them out of metal.

Just then, a delicate cough sounded above him. Alin looked up to see Erzsébet's boyfriend standing by the table, outstretching a gloved hand.

"May I take a moment to examine your design? I _am_ a professional architect."

Alin hesitated, but he sounded sincere enough. "Alright then."

With the paper in hand, what's-his-name Edelstein glanced over the drawings through his silver-rimmed spectacles. He _hmph_ed decisively and raised his eyebrows in snooty contempt. Alin supposed he could be considered attractive if stuck-up pretty-boys were your type. Perfect for Erzsébet, in that case.

"It is as I thought." he said, tossing the drawing back down on the table, "Your anatomy is entirely misproportioned."

"Anata-whatty?"

"Anatomy. Like here for instance," he gestured to the top part of the sketch, "The area from the thigh to knee is actually longer than the knee to the ankle. You've drawn the opposite. And that foot is a good deal bigger than it ought to be, considering the size of the leg."

"Oh." Looking at it now, he could actually sort of see what he was talking about. He crumpled the paper into a ball, embarrassed. "I-I guess I'll have to do it properly next time."

"Evidently you have not drawn before?"

Alin shook his head.

"As expected." He took a moment to straighten his jabot. "Well, if you truly intend to see this project through, perhaps you'll allow me to make the necessary designs."

Behind them, there was an indignant splutter from Erzsébet. Alin ignored it.

"Seriously? You'd do that for me?"

"Indeed," Edelstein said, "It displeases me to see poorly designed mechanicals. I crafted the outlines for quite a number of the current Walkers, after all."

_Wow_. Maybe this Edelstein guy wasn't just a pretty face then. Come to think of it, that explained a lot. Alin remembered Erzsébet showing off about how loaded her boyfriend was; this must be how he could afford to take her to all those expensive restaurants.

"Thanks." he said.

"Think nothing of it." He drummed his fingers absent-mindedly on the table. "And I take it you have already hired a team of mechanics to complete the task?"

"Um, no." Alin admitted, "I-I was going to do that bit myself too."

Roderich tutted and pulled a businesses card from the inner pocket of his overcoat. "Here. Get in contact with my cousins. As much as it pains me to admit it, both of them are among the best you'll ever meet."

Alin scanned over the card. Apparently, he'd have to look for the team of brothers, G. and L. Beilschmidt. He gulped as he noticed that both of them lived in the posh end of town; the area where a house was considered run-down if it didn't have at least two chimneys. His powers of persuasion were going to need a little brushing up if he wanted to get this done for free.

Alin slipped the card into his pocket. "Thank you, Mr Edelstein."

"You might as well call me Roderich." he said, "I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other in the coming days."

"Wait a minute." Erzsébet had her hands on her hips, staring between Alin and her boyfriend in disbelief, "You mean you're actually going to _build_ this mechanical leg? Sorry, but what's the point?"

"It's for the injured pilot!" Andrei said before Alin could make up a story, "The one with the handsome face."

Ah, crap. He'd done it now. Alin tried not to wince as the smile slid from Erzsébet's face.

"Roddy, would you mind taking Andrei outside for a moment." she said quietly, "I think I need a word with my dear colleague."

Roderich nodded, and beckoned for Andrei to follow him. Erzsébet's mouth opened as the door clicked shut behind them, but Alin beat her to it.

"Before you say anything, I don't care what you think." he said, "Tsvetan needs an amputation or he'll die. And I'm not letting him hop around on one leg for the rest of his life either."

Erzsébet covered her face with her hands. "_Have you gone completely mad, Radacanu_?! You'll be lucky enough to get away with keeping him here as it is without engineering body parts for him. Someone's going to notice!"

"No they won't." He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms behind his head. "Anyway, since when did you start giving a shit about my safety?"

"You? You think this is about you?" Her voice teemed with hatred, "I'm worried about _Andrei_. He's nine years old, how do you think he's going to cope if you get yourself executed?"

"Stop being so melodramatic! It's not going to come to that."

"It might. Anyway, if you stop gawping at his 'handsome face' all the time, it might be worth considering who this guy actually is."

Alin narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, Héderváry?"

"I mean that he pilots for the Hepworthian army. The country we're at war with, as you seem to have forgotten." she said, "And I know he's had a shock, but that doesn't make him any less dangerous. You can't just trust him blindly like this."

"I'm _not_!" Alin said though gritted teeth, "I know what I'm doing here, honestly."

Erzsébet sighed and shook her head. "There isn't anything I can do to convince you, is there?"

"Nope." Alin said, "Now, how about spending more time with lover-boy instead of hassling me?"

Erzsébet sighed again, starting to make her way to the door. Fingers on the handle, she stopped and turned back.

"I just hope you _do_ know what you're doing, Radacanu. Because, you're treading on thin ground here, you really are."

With that, she left the room. The door slammed after her and Alin stuck his tongue out at it with as much loathing as he could muster. It was childish, and he knew it, but he'd had just about enough of Erzsébet's stupid opinions for one day. She hadn't spoken with Tsvetan, had she? She hadn't seen the fear and tragedy buried deep within his eyes. Until she did, her claims that Tsvetan couldn't be trusted would stay as stereotypical assumptions.

It was just the same kind of bullshit as the authorities and their superiors in the army were feeding them every day: _The Hepworthians are out to get us, It's between us and them, Fight for the protection of Ryder_. Even before, Alin had been unconvinced. But all he could hear now were the lies slithering around the empty words like snakes.

And as much as Alin valued his life in Ryder, he knew much better than to believe them.

* * *

Three sharp knocks echoed over the office. Alfred raised his head from examining his collection of papers.

"Who's there?"

In truth, he knew exactly who it was (or who it ought to be, at least); asking to make sure just gave him a dizzying thrill of authority. Sure enough, the voice that responded was the one he'd been expecting.

"You wanted to see me, Commander Jones?" That voice. It made him smile to hear how inexperienced it was. How overconfident on the surface with those hints of unease poking through like children on their first flight. Once, his own voice had been like that.

"I sure did. Enter please."

The door opened and the young Captain walked in, already kitted out in his military gear. He gave a crisp salute which Alfred returned from his seat then stood where he was- his back perfectly straight- to await instructions. _Obedient to a fault_, Alfred noted, _Damn, if he isn't perfect for this job_.

"Well, first of all," he said, flipping through his notes, "I gotta say I've been hearing some glowing reports about your services. All the Officers I've spoken to have pointed out your reliability, quick reactions and ability to think straight under pressure. These are the just kinda qualities I like to see from guys such as yourself."

The man's cheeks flushed slightly. "Thank you, Sir."

"Based on this, I've decided it's time to issue you your first major assignment." Alfred pulled an envelope out of his top draw and handed it to him. "Open it please, and tell me you understand what you're doing."

His fingers shook and practically tore open the paper as he struggled to take out the sheet inside. Once done, he read over the writing reverently. Alfred watched as those wide eyes of his opened further still.

"Sir! There- there must have been some mistake."

"You think I make mistakes, kid?"

"Of course not, Sir, but… well…" he swept back his dark fringe and stared at the instructions again, "If completed, this mission alone would surely bring the entire war to an end!"

Alfred chuckled. How naive this young Captain was. "Nah, no chance of that. But it'll certainly set it onto a new course, and that's just the kinda opportunity we need to go all-out on 'em."

"And you believe that I'm capable of completing this task?

"I _know_ you are."

The Captain seemed to consider this deeply for a moment. Alfred wished he wouldn't. Frowning didn't suit that baby-face at all. Finally, he folded the sheet and put it into his breast pocket.

"Alright Sir, when do I leave?"

Alfred grinned. _That's the spirit_! "Two days from now. We'll issue you a team- most likely crewmen you've worked alongside before- then you'll be all set."

Damn, the kid looked nervous about that. Determined and enthusiastic, sure, but nervous too.

"Okay, you're now dismissed." Alfred told him, "But I'll see you again in two days time. Before you set out."

Nodding, the Captain bowed stiffly and began to walk out of the room. He had almost gone when Alfred called out again on impulse.

"Hey! Wait up one minute!"

He reappeared at the door. "Sir?"

Alfred stood up and approached, pulling from the sling in his belt his very own bolt gun.

"Here." he pushed it into his hands, "I want'cha to take this along."

"Sir, I _can't_!" he turned the gun over in his hands in amazement, "Th-this has got to be one of the most advanced guns I've ever seen. It would be wrong to take it from you."

It was advanced. In fact, it was a brand-new model, tailor designed for him by some of the leading techno experts in the capital, but Alfred knew he was doing the right thing in giving it away.

"Just do it. I… I gotta sort of hunch you might need it later on. For the mission."

He couldn't blame the kid for looking confused. The mission was strictly ariel-based; there was nothing within the brief which even remotely suggested the use of bolt guns. But to Alfred's relief, he nodded.

"If you insist, Sir."

"I do. Now, you know how to use it?"

He shook his head. Taking the Captain's hands, Alfred placed one on the handle so that his forefinger poised on the trigger and the other around the back.

"Crank up the gears first." he said, "You'll know it's ready when you hear a click- yeah, like that. Then, you squeeze the trigger. Squeeze, not pull. It's pretty damn sensit-"

His sentence was drowned out by a sharp snapping noise. From the barrel of the gun burst a tiny arrow which shot through the air and landed on Alfred's desk, piercing his stack of notes. The Captain's mouth dropped open.

"Sir, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for that to happen, I swear."

"Hey, no sweat." Alfred winked and patted the kid's arm, "But I think you might need to practice a bit more in the next coupla days, right?"

The Captain just smiled.

* * *

Tsvetan Borisiov awoke with a yell. His body jerked up instinctively and he tried to stand before remembering where he was. And that his leg was in no position to support him any time soon.

Breathing heavily, he collapsed back onto the mattress. The sense of guilt was back again, wriggling and writhing in his gut like worms. He knew he had no right to be feeling like this. Everything that had happened to him so far had been a combination of chance and the silly mistakes that every pilot made on their first major assignment. There was nothing he really could have done to prevent it all. But whenever he saw the Commander's beaming face in his mind's eye, the guilt squirmed stronger than ever. Commander Jones had put all his trust into him, and he had failed in his duty.

Well… perhaps he hadn't failed _quite_ yet.

Slipping a hand under his nightshirt, his fingers felt for the leather shoulder-strap and closed around the handle of his bolt gun. Thank God he still had it. Thank God he'd chosen to carry it here instead of in his uniform pocket. If he hadn't, that young driver who'd rescued him would have taken it for sure. What was his name again? Alin, that was it.

He supposed Alin was something he should be thankful for too. Being captured by enemy forces was every pilot's worst nightmare, but this Alin seemed to have less brains inside him than a flowerpot. _He's good looking, though_, Tsvetan's mind suggested slyly. Frustrated, he pushed the thought away. There was nothing remotely attractive about that dishevelled blond hair and the tooth that stuck out a the side of his mouth. Why would there be?

Anyway, living inside enemy territory could bring possibilities as well as terror. Perhaps now it would be even easier for him to get another chance. Smiling, Tsvetan rolled over and closed his eyes.

Perhaps now, thanks to Alin, he could fulfil his duty once and for all.

* * *

***It turns out that AusHun through Alin's eyes is nowhere near as hot as it is through mine. Who knew? Also, I started off writing Alfred's dialogue more formally but he interrupted and told me that it didn't sound natural so I stopped.**

**More to come soon!***


	4. Interrogation

True to his word, Roderich sent the completed plans over to Alin's house later that evening. Alin ran his fingers over the perfectly-traced designs, half in admiration, half in jealousy. Even on paper the leg was meticulously detailed with not a single cog or gear out of place. It almost looked like it could come alive in his hands.

This just left the mechanics. Alin decided to pay Roderich's cousins a visit them the next morning and left Andrei in Erzsébet's care while he walked over to their workshop in the other side of town. The area was even more upmarket than Alin had imagined. Trying not to feel intimidated by the many-storied buildings and soot-free streets, he made his way to the given address and rapped on the knocker. There was a sign hanging above the door bearing the emblem of an eagle holding a spanner and a can of oil in each of its wings. Underneath the image, the company name stood in bold letters:

_Old Fritz's Awesome Constructions_

He'd definitely come to the right place, then.

The door was opened by a lanky man dressed in a mechanic's apron. His eyes were an even deeper shade of red than Alin's and they narrowed in suspicion as they surveyed him.

"Erm, do I know you?"

Alin considered the question. "Technically… not yet. But I sort of know you because I'm, uh, really good friends with your cousin Roderich and- hey!"

As soon as he mentioned Roderich's name, the door began to close. Alin jumped forward and stuck his foot out to block it from shutting.

"What are you doing? At least let me explain who I am, dammit!"

"Sorry, I don't talk to friends of Roderich!" the man said cheerfully, "Now, would you mind getting your foot out of my door?"

"Look, this is serious and I need your- ow!" He yelped as the door slammed repeatedly into his foot, "Cut it out! That hurts!"

The man laughed. "Yeah? Well it'll be easier if you just leave. Unless you've got a really, _really_ good reason for coming here."

"I _do_!" Alin had expected to give his prepared speech after he'd been invited into the building, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to do it now instead. "My name's Alin Radacanu. The other day, I was out driving the A341-Walker with my co-driver Erzsébet Héderváry and we-"

The slamming stopped immediately. To his relief, the man cautiously opened the door again.

"Wait… you know Erzsi too?"

"_Un_fortunately." Alin scowled. "I'm forced to work with that bitch almost every day."

The mechanic laughed again with a short, machine-like cackle. He sounded a lot more resentful than he did amused.

"Alright, come in then." He stood aside to clear the way, "Something tells me we're going to have quite a lot in common, Mr… what did you say your name was again?"

"Alin." He noticed that the man still had his shoes on, but he decided to take off his own mud-caked boots just to be on the safe side. "And you are?"

"The awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt." he said, "I'd shake your hand but, well, now's not really the time."

He displayed his grease-stained hands apologetically and laughed in that bitter, chilling way for the third time.

* * *

Considering the amount of construction they did, Alin was surprised to find that the Belschmidts' studio consisted of only a single room in the basement. Not to say that it wasn't well-organised, though. All of the worktops were immaculately clean, while each tool and mechanical part hung on its own specific peg sticking out of the wall.

Alin had fed Gilbert the same hiker story he'd used on Katernia. He appeared to have accepted it just as easily as she had. Taking Roderich's designs, Gilbert spread them out over a table to examine. The edge of his lip twisted in the expression of a man who was desperately trying to avoid looking impressed.

"Damn, I hate that guy." he said finally, "But he's got to be one of the best at his job that you'll ever meet."

Alin raised his eyebrows. "Funny. He said exactly the same thing about you."

Gilbert didn't quite laugh this time but still managed a kind of warped grin. "Yeah? Well, he was right about that. I'm not just good at what I do, I'm incredible! Look,"

Reaching into his apron pocket, he pulled out what looked like a yellow ball of fluff. He flipped a button and the fluff sprang to life at once, cheeping like a bird and fluttering around Gilbert's head with tiny mechanical wings.

"Isn't he awesome?" Gilbert said, "I call him 'The Gilbird'. I'm thinking of making an eagle next."

"Yeah. He's… great." Personally, Alin couldn't see the appeal of having a clockwork bird, but he supposed that it was good engineering.

"Heh, thanks!" He caught Gilbird and de-activated him again before stuffing him back into his pocket. "Oh, and I can totally do this leg you want. After some of the stuff I've made, it'll be pipsqueak."

"How long will it take?" Alin asked, thinking of what Katerina told him.

Gilbert scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Um… dunno. Depends on whether or not my bro Ludwig decides to pitch in. He's out at the moment so I can't ask him."

"More or less than a week?"

"Oh less, definitely." Gilbert winked. "We'll have it done in time for your man's operation, don't you worry!"

"Thanks!" Alin said, relieved.

Gilbert chuckled in response, picked up Roderich's designs and began to walk around the room. He muttered to himself as he collected items from their pegs; a hammer, several bolts and a block of iron. Alin watched on, the next awkward question on the tip of his tongue.

"Um, how much is this going to cost exactly?

"Dunno that either. Ludi handles all the finances." Gilbert said, selecting two pairs of goggles, "But whatever it is, I'll be able to give you a discount. You're a special case."

"Really?" Alin could hardly believe his luck, "How so?"

"You're someone Erzsébet hates even more than me. Makes me feel like much less of a dick for wanting her. Sort of. Maybe."

He laughed yet again but it sounded painfully forced. By this point, Gilbert's hands were completely full. He staggered back to the worktop and dumped the items on the surface.

"Right." He picked up one of the pairs of goggles and handed it to Alin, "Might as well get started while we can."

"What? You want _me _to join in as well?"

"Sure, why not?" Gilbert snapped on his own goggles and picked up terrifying-looking instrument with a piece of metal sticking out of the nozzle. "Welding is a two-man job and while Ludi's not here, you can take his place."

Alin gulped. Part of the reason why he'd never considered a career in mechanics was because of all the terrible stories he'd heard about it. There used to be a barman serving at the local tavern who swore that the scar running through his left eye was a trophy won from the welding process.

"But… aren't there loads of sparks and stuff?"

"'Course." Gilbert took a clump of snowy hair into his hands. "You ever wonder how my hair got to be such an awesome colour? It used to be pure blond, but smoke exposure dyed it white. That's why my bro wears a hairnet when he works."

Alin swept his own hair back protectively. "D'you mind if I wear a hairnet too?"

"Hehe, one time won't be enough to change it permanently! But feel free to wear it if you really want to."

He gestured to where the hairnet was hanging on a peg on the other side of the room. Alin went over to retrieve it and made sure he had his entire head completely covered. The last thing he wanted was to return to Tsvetan with his hair the colour of chalk, however noble the cause was. By the time he got back, Gilbert had set the worktop up ready to begin. He pushed the hammer in Alin's direction who picked it up uncertainly.

"Er, sorry, but I don't really have a clue what I'm meant to be doing."

Gilbert's smile showed teeth. "Don't be such a sissy! Just do what I say and you'll be fine, alright?"

"Alright." Alin said, "I guess…"

With a nod, Gilbert turned on his instrument and a burst of fire blazed onto the metal. Alin held the hammer at the ready. The welding process had begun.

Welding, as it turned out, was a lot less nerve-racking than Alin had imagined. Gilbert did most of the work with the burner, carefully melting the metal at the right angles, leaving Alin to bang the corners into shape whenever he was told to. They left the finished result out to cool and returned to it after the molten metal had set. At Gilbert's instruction, Alin was even able to knock a few bolts and cogs into place.

By midday, the block of metal had been transformed into the clear shape of a foot. Gilbert tested it out by winding up the clogs and Alin watched on in awe. The clockwork foot could move up and down on the worktop surface, entirely on its own. If it worked here, it was bound to work for Tsvetan too.

He thanked Gilbert again before he left.

"No problem!" Gilbert said. He'd become a good deal more excitable after the success of the foot, almost like he secretly hadn't been expecting it to work. "Come back tomorrow too if you like. Ludi will be here then, so we'll be able to get even more work done."

Nodding, Alin walked back down the Belschmidt's driveway. "I will! Thanks!"

"See ya then!" Gilbert waved from the door. "Give Erzsi a kick from me. Or a kiss. Whichever you prefer."

Alin decided to make that a kick.

* * *

Making up his mind on whether or not to visit a healing patient shouldn't have been difficult. Yet Alin agonised over it almost the entire afternoon. He'd last seen Tsvetan only yesterday; would it seem like he was being too forward if he came again? And if he didn't, would it seem like he didn't care any more?

He wondered as well about bringing him a present. A get-well card, or a bunch of flowers or something. Perhaps it would be too soon. Perhaps it would be too excessive. Perhaps Tsvetan would even see it as an insult to the memories of his shipmates.

In the end, Alin was stressing out about it all so much that Andrei had to practically drag him down to the infirmary.

"I know you want to see him, brother." he said, with all his nine-year old wisdom, "And you never know, he might actually want to see you too."

Alin only hoped that he was right.

But as soon as he stepped into the intensive ward to find himself greeted by Tsvetan's shy smile and his shining grey eyes, Alin completely forgot that he'd been nervous at all. Tsvetan was pleased to see him and nothing else mattered.

They exchanged small-talk for a few minutes; Alin asking how he felt, if he'd had a good night's sleep, whether or not he'd eaten anything. Generic questions, but even the generic answers sounded nice in Tsvetan's voice.

It didn't take long, however, for Alin to notice that there was something wrong. Tsvetan seemed more subdued today and his eyes kept flicking nervously from side to side.

"What's up?" Alin asked him, though he thought he could guess.

"I heard this morning." Tsvetan said in a quiet voice, "Katerina told me. They're going to have to take my leg."

Alin looked at him, trying to scan his face for some sign of distress or fear. All he could read within his eyes was guilt. Did that even make sense? Possibly. He was using the medical services of an enemy country, after all.

"Yeah, I heard too. How do you feel about that?"

Tsvetan shook his head. "It's too difficult for me to even contemplate. It'll be much harder to hide when I can't walk-"

"You could hide in my house." said Alin, "They wouldn't find you there."

He brushed the offer aside. "And I don't know how I'd ever be able to go anywhere, or get home."

"You wouldn't need to. But if you did, I'd help you."

Tsvetan frowned. He almost looked sympathetic. "I know you'd try and I'm very grateful for that. But it'd be a lot harder than you think. You'd put yourself in so mach danger, smuggling me across."

"Can't be _that _difficult." Alin said bracingly, "If you taught be how to fly one of your airships, you'd be back in Hep- back home in no time."

He didn't like having to say 'Hepworth' out loud. Part of it was out of fear that someone might hear him but mostly it was because the word reinforced the idea of their separation. That he and Tsvetan shouldn't be sitting together like friends or entertaining plans, or even talking at all.

"That's another thing." Tsvetan said, "_Flying_. It's only been a couple of days, but already I miss piloting my airship so much. When my leg's gone, I'll never be able to do it again."

Now the expression on his face was easy to read. Longing.

That was so absurd to Alin that he couldn't help feeling curious. Why would Tsvetan want to pilot again? What was it about airships that made him want to return to a profession that had claimed so many of his friends' lives?

"What's it like?" he asked, "Flying, I mean?"

"It's… incredible." Tsvetan rested his head against the pillows and closed his eyes. "There are no restrictions in the sky. No rules to follow, no leaders to obey. There's just you with the wind and clouds and the feeling of pure freedom all around you." When he opened his eyes again they were gleaming. "The best feeling in the whole world."

If Tsvetan had been an ordinary Ryderian man, Alin would have kissed him there and then. He'd never felt such a powerful surge of affection before; a sort of unbearable tingling all over that made him want to take Tsvetan in his arms and stare him deeply in the eyes and promise him that everything, _everything_ would be alright.

But while they were still enemies, he could only dream.

He nudged him. "Hey, d'you have mechanical legs where you come from?"

"Well, yes. But I don't think that's an option. They cost a fortune and they have to be custom-made to fit you exactly." He sighed. "It would be impossible to get anyone to engineer one in this country."

"Well, you're wrong." Alin said, "I'm making one for you."

Tsvetan simply gaped at him, so he continued.

"Erzsébet's boyfriend made the plans and I got in contact with the mechanic today." He was grinning like an idiot and he knew it but he couldn't stop himself. "We've already made the foot and it _works_. We'll have the whole thing ready before the amputation, I swear it."

For a moment, Tsvetan remained silent, like he was frozen to the spot. Alin watched for a reaction. He hadn't accidentally done anything to offend him, had he? Had Tsvetan even understood him at all? Suddenly, Tsvetan gave a shuddering gasp and buried his face in the bedcovers.

"Oh Alin…" His voice was muffled but the guilt was unmistakable. "You- you really are unbelievable!"

Alin giggled nervously. "I know. But it's a good kind of unbelievable, right?"

"Yes. Yes, of course it is."

It took a while for Tsvetan to emerge. Alin half-expected his cheeks to be wet. Instead, they were flushed a deep, shameful scarlet colour.

"You'll still be able to pilot with a clockwork leg, won't you?" Alin asked.

Tsvetan nodded.

"As soon as I can walk again, I'm going to take you out flying." he said, "You'll be able to see how special it is, then, just how much it means to me. It would be the least I could do to pay you back."

Alin wanted to tell him that he'd already payed him back a hundred times over just by walking into his life. But he couldn't find the words so he just smiled.

"I'd like that."

* * *

In the days that followed, there were two constants in Alin's life.

One was that he helped out in _Old Fritz's Awesome Constructions_ every morning. He met the younger Belschmidt, Ludwig, on his second day there and soon learnt that he had a far stricter attitude towards work than his brother. Sure, Gilbert was organised and efficient but he didn't have the same eye for detail as Ludwig did. Ludwig seemed to possess an instinctive sense of where every bolt and cog should be, right down to the inch. If that meant pointing out all of Alin's mistakes and insisting that he start again until he got it exactly right, so be it.

"Come on now," he said, after making him redo a particularly intricate piece of metal, "Surely you cannot want your friend's future body part to malfunction."

Alin didn't; of course he didn't. But at the same time, he he found it impossible to believe that a gear that wasn't precisely at a 35 degree angle would make a slightest bit of difference and that was infuriating him.

"Why? What the hell could actually _happen_?"

Ludwig puffed up his chest. "Well, for a start it could cause unnecessary friction against the main part of the metal, which would result in the entire unit overheating and possibly exploding. Also, the greater angle means that the replacement fibular would not be sufficiently connected to the ankle bone, which would make the unit jolt painfully every time it was stepped on. Even worse, the overall pressure against the outer layer would cause-"

"Jeez, Ludi, give the lectures a rest." Gilbert said from across the room, "You're scaring him!"

Alin didn't ask again, but did whatever he was told to with renewed obedience. By the second day, they had the leg completed up to the knee. The third day finally saw their efforts result in a finished product.

He also discovered around the same time that Ludwig was not at all inhibited to discussing prices. Even with the brothers' kind reduction the bill had naughts which sent it rocketing far out of his price range. He ended up putting it off by promising to pay them back later, although he knew that would be impossible. If he managed to get through Tsvetan's recovery without at least one bank robbery, it was going to be a flipping miracle.

* * *

The second constant in Alin's life was that he visited Tsvetan in the intensive care unit at least once a day.

Sometimes, Tsvetan was asleep during these encounters. Alin would sit by his bed and watch over him while he rested, guarding the gentle rise and fall of his chest almost obsessively. When he was feeling brave, he would even reach out to caress Tsvetan's fringe.

But mostly Tsvetan was awake in the afternoons, giving Alin a chance to get to know that man who was beginning to dominate his every waking thought. He was particularly interested in his life back home and role within the Hepworthian army. He came to learn that Tsvetan was only a trainee airman, fresh out of piloting school, and that the mission he and his shipmates had been out on was only supposed to be a practice. Alin wasn't sure whether that made the situation better or worse.

In turn, he told Tsvetan all about his life in the Kingdom of Ryder. About living under the rule of King Francis with his guardsmen and regular parades around the city centre. About learning to drive a Walker and getting stuck with Erzsébet as a partner. About Andrei and how he was growing up to become quite the little cheeky bastard.

As the week progressed, the information they exchanged grew steadily more detailed. Tsevtan's favourite food was yoghurt; Alin's was a papanasi pastry. Tsvetan liked listening to depressing ballads; Alin preferred upbeat tunes. Alin's greatest fear was losing someone important to him; Tsvetan's was letting down someone important to him.

* * *

Alin often had to scout with the Walker during the evenings. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he began finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate whenever it was his turn to drive.

"Look out!" Erzsébet shouted for about the tenth time during one patrol. She wrestled the controls out of his hands just in time to swerve away from hitting a huge rock in their path. "Radacanu, what's been up with you recently? Not that you were a good pilot before or anything, but your performance has really gone downhill."

Alin shrugged, feeling the beginnings of a blush stroke his cheeks. "I dunno, it's just… other things on my mind."

Erzsébet shook her head and turned back to tend to the fires, though he could have sworn that he heard he muttering as she did so. Something like "Lovestruck fool."

* * *

The date for Tsvetan's operation was set for Friday evening at the end of the week. Alin checked, double-checked and triple-checked with the Beilschmidts that the clockwork leg was entirely faultless before taking it down to the infirmary. Katerina and Ravis were kitted out in long gowns and surgical masks but removed them to admire the piece of technology.

"This is flawlessly made," Katerina said, after giving every part a thorough examination, "I think it will do very nicely for Mr Borisov. Ravis, take this down to the ward, please."

Her assistant nodded and she handed him the unit. It was so big that it almost dwarfed Ravis' figure.

"Um, maybe it'd be best if I take it down instead." Alin said.

Katerina threw him a scandalised look. "Alin, there are no visitors allowed during the operation! It is a strictly medical procedure."

"What?!" There went his fantasy of holding Tsvetan's hand and whispering words of comfort into his ear. "But- but… that's not fair!"

"It's perfectly fair. The operation is dangerous enough as it is already without you getting in the way. You may visit him afterwards if you'd like that."

Alin swallowed "Can't I at least visit him before it starts? Just to wish him good luck and everything."

She sighed deeply. "Very well. Escort him please, Ravis."

Alin took the clockwork leg from Ravis' hands and followed him down the hallway to the intensive ward. Could that be for the last time? Best not to get too optimistic.

When he entered the ward, he saw that Tsvetan's bed had been moved to the centre of the room. A table stood beside it which carried a number of instruments, including a leather belt and a saw with sharpened edges.

"Alin. You came." Tsvetan was sitting up in bed, his one good foot pulled into his chest. He looked every bit as pale as he had when Alin had first met him.

Alin forced a smile. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Alright I suppose." Tsvetan said. Then he shivered. "Scared, though."

"You'll be fine. Try not to think about the pain, think about piloting. The best feeling in the world, you said."

Tsvetan squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes. I'll try."

"And- and Tsvetan?"

"Yeah?"

Alin twisted his hands in his pockets. "Stay alive, okay? You've still got to take me out flying."

Tsvetan managed a laugh, though it was a very shaky one. "I'll try my hardest with that too."

At that moment, the door opened behind him and Katerina walked in with Ravis.

"Alright, time to start now." she said through her mask, "Alin, if you could leave us please?"

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but Alin turned around and dragged his feet towards the door. He turned back just before shut it for one last look at his Tsvetan's beautiful, petrified face.

"Good luck." he mouthed and Tsvetan nodded to show that he'd understood.

Then the door closed and he was gone. Could _that _be for the last time? Alin chewed the corner of his lip. Best not to get too pessimistic.

* * *

"Alin! Alin, come quick!"

He'd been waiting for little over five minutes in the main section of the infirmary when the shouts came. Snapping out of his daze, he turned to see Andrei in the entrance, bent over double and breathing heavily like he'd been running. His brother gasped for breath and gestured behind him wildly.

"You've got to come home, Alin! Erzsébet's there. There's a man who wants to speak to you both."

Alin's stomach flipped over. "What?! Andrei, he's not one of the guards is he?"

It was a relief when Andrei shook his head. "No. It's that man who tells you what to do at your work. Officer Kirkland, or whatever his name is."

_Officer Kirkland_. That, if possible was even worse than an guardsman. Alin leapt to his feet, legs already shaking.

"Alright, I'd better go. Thanks for telling me." He was about to break out into a run, then he stopped himself. "And by the way… don't come home for a while. At least until nasty Officer Kirkland has gone, okay?"

_After all, _Alin thought as he tore out of the infirmary and through the narrow cobbled streets of Dunning City, _If what he's got to say concerns Tsvetan, this could end up getting ugly._

* * *

The distance from the infirmary to his house in the suburbs was about a fifteen minute walk. Alin sprinted there in five. When he burst through the door, his unexpected guests were there to await him.

"S-sorry I'm late, Sir!"

Officer Kirkland raised his trademark bushy eyebrows. He seemed to have chosen to wear a monocle for added intimidation.

"No matter, Radacanu. Please take a seat."

Normally, Alin would have made a joke about being ordered around in his own house. Now, he could tell that it would go down like a lead airship. He sat down next to Erzsébet on the other side of the table who glared at him stonily.

Taking off his bowler hat, Officer Kirkland cleared his throat.

"Now, in case you don't know what you've been called here for, we sent a patrol group scouting over your usual route this morning. We didn't expect anything out of the ordinary considering that you two have this area covered, but halfway through they reported the crash of an enemy airship. With the bodies of four Hepworthian men inside. Judging by the state of the corpses, they estimated them to be at least a week old." He twisted his bowler hat and gave them both a piercing stare. "Explain yourselves!"

Neither of them said a word. Alin's heart was thumping so hard that he doubted he'd still have the ability to form coherent sentences any more. Next to him, Erzsébet's mouth was rounded into the 'o' shape it always formed when she was put under pressure.

Officer Kirkland tutted. "I'll make this a little easier for you since the cat seems to have caught your tongues. Have you or have you not seen this airship crash any time in the past week?"

Suddenly, both rushed to speak at once.

"Yes." said Erzsébet.

"No." said Alin.

All eyes turned on him.

"Well, um, of-of course I meant that we've seen it!" he hastened to say, "I just meant that… that we didn't report it! That's all!"

"I am aware that you didn't report it, Radacanu." The Officer's voice was merciless. "Painfully aware, in fact, that the two of you have concealed this information from us for an entire week!"

"We didn't think it was necessary, Sir." Erzsébet said.

Alin stared at her, open-mouthed. Was he seeing things or was this seriously _Erzsébet Héderváry_ stepping in to defend him? Perhaps he'd make Gilbert's kick into a kiss after all.

The Officer narrowed his eyes. It looked like hard work with the monocle. "Whatever do you mean by that, Héderváry?"

"I sent Radacanu down to give the airship a check-over as soon as we saw it, Sir." She kicked Alin's leg under the table under the table. "Isn't that right, Radacanu?"

"Yeah!" Alin said quickly, "I checked really thoroughly but… nothing. No survivors, no cargo or weaponry of any value, just four dead bodies and a burning ship. So we didn't consider it worth reporting. Sir!"

Officer Kirkland closed his eyes and massaged those enormous eyebrows with a thumb and forefinger. Every inch of his expression suggested that he was only resisting screaming at them with great difficulty.

"Might I remind you both that we are _at war_?" he spat at them, "And not only that… we have recently heard new information from our agents stationed in Hepworth. The authorities there have been planning something recently- we do not know exactly what it is, but from the sound of things it is something which could shake up the entire course of this conflict. It is _imperative_ that we remain vigilant in these dangerous times. Every sighting of the enemy, failed or not, _must_ be reported. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Alin and Erzsébet said together.

"Sorry, Sir." Alin added for good measure.

"Unfortunately, Radacanu, it is not me who you would need to apologise to, should this crisis escalate." Officer Kirkland said, "It could be as much as to the entire Kingdom."

Alin opened his mouth, about to remind him that Tsvetan's mission had only been a practice before he caught himself just in time. Satisfied, Officer Kirkland stood up and replaced his bowler hat.

"Tomorrow evening, I am sending the two of you out again with a Walker to collect the bodies. You will go out there promptly and bring back everything you can for a full diagnosis. Only then can we conclude whether or not the incident was 'worth reporting'." he said, then his voice hardened, "And if either of you are ever, _ever_ found to be concealing information from us again, the consequences will be very severe indeed. Good day to you both."

He tipped his hat to Erzsébet and left. For a few moments the two of them sat in silence, listening to his footsteps echo away. Alin didn't dare to look at his co-driver. As much as he hated Erzsébet, he was well aware that it was entirely his fault that she'd been brought under questioning. And that she'd just lied through her teeth for him.

"Thanks," he muttered eventually, "For not… y'know."

He smiled but Erzsébet didn't meet it. Instead, she stood up and turned her back away.

"You're damn lucky Roderich's so good in bed." she said, her voice fierce, "If he wasn't then I might think twice about betraying my country to protect his balls."

Then she stormed out of the house, leaving Alin alone to contemplate. It was funny really, he'd always been told as a child that love was the most powerful force in the world and that it could withstand anything, even war. But now, it seemed that he'd found another force, battling hard to be love's equal.

Duty.

* * *

***This chapter made me realise that I actually really enjoy writing twisted, one-sided PruHun. I am a clearly a terrible person. Anyway, I looked up images of 'steampunk mechanical leg' for the sort of thing that Alin and the Belschmidts have been creating.**

**Next chapter will be up as soon as possible.***


	5. At High Altitude

***Just wanted to say thanks for the reviews people have been leaving. I really appreciate the support and feedback. **

**Also, I'm going to give a warning for a slightly gory and graphic first scene. I was quite inspired by reading about some gruesome 17th and 18th Century amputations. This is not set in the past, but since it's a steampunk, those old-fashioned medical elements just felt right.***

* * *

There were no anaesthetics in the Dunning City infirmary.

Tsvetan discovered this the hard way when the Doctor's assistant shoved a thick leather belt in his mouth and instructed him to bite on it as hard as he could.

"I'm not going to sugarcoat it, this operation is really going to hurt." he told him, "But try not to scream. Just use the belt."

"And don't whatever you do look at your leg while the operation's going on." added Dr Braginskaya, "You might end up passing out due to the shock."

Tsvetan tried to speak but his mouth was too choked with belt. From the table beside his bed, Dr Braginskaya picked up her surgeon's saw; the one with teeth so sharp that it looked more like the jaws of an animal than a medical instrument. It took all of Tsvetan's courage not to pass out there and then.

The assistant began securing straps across Tsvetan's body and arms, binding him to the bed. They were fastened tightly enough to feel them cutting off his blood supply. Presumably to stop him thrashing around in torment. What a prospect.

"Close your eyes, Mr Borisov." the Doctor commanded, "We're going to start."

Tsvetan did as he was told. A moment later, all he knew was pain. The blade of the saw was cold against his skin and the agony as he felt it move back an forth was unbearable. All he wanted to do was open his mouth to scream and scream until his lungs exploded.

Somewhere above him, he heard the assistant calling to him calmly. "Bite down, Mr Borisov."

Tsvetan bit. His teeth clenched around the belt so hard that he feared they might break under the effort but it did nothing to disguise the fact that the flesh around his thigh was on fire. Tears beaded under his closed eyelids and his body urged to jerk but the straps made it impossible. Instead, he kicked out with his free leg, groaning like a madman.

"Ravis, bind his other leg." came the Doctor's voice.

The straps tightened around his thigh and knee. Tsvetan bit down harder. He could feel the saw cutting through his bone now; a pain unlike any he'd ever felt before. Worse than the time he got his arm stuck in an incinerator, worse than the training sessions that used to make him faint, even worse than the airship crash. This was simply sheer and utter torture. Although his mouth was bound, Tsvetan's whole body was screaming out in anguish.

He knew what Dr Braginskaya had said about not looking but he couldn't help himself. His eyes snapped open instinctively. Through the blur of tears he could see the Doctor standing before him, sawing away determinedly with her gloves and arms covered in his blood. The assistant held down his twisted foot, leaving the rest of his leg exposed. There was a gigantic slash at the top of his thigh which opened up to the bare flesh and bone inside.

The feeling of sickness swept over Tsvetan in an instant. Bile rose up his throat, collecting in his mouth so that he was not only choking on the belt but his own vomit too. He closed his eyes again but it was no good; the awful haze of mixed agony and nausea endured, threatening to drown him. Regardless of the promise made to Alin to stay alive, death would be far preferable to _this_.

Then, as the saw gave another harsh wrench, the dizziness overcame him and his world turned black.

* * *

He came round sometime later. It was impossible to say how much longer; it could have been days for all he knew.

The first sense to return was his sight. At some point, Dr Braginskaya and her assistant must have moved him because his head was now directly faced an open window. Two pigeons were perched on a wall outside, one several spaces apart from the other. Whenever the other pigeon edged within touching distance, the first hopped away again with a kind of blunt resolve to stay apart. Tsvetan watched their struggle all the way down the wall until the first pigeon flew off into the distance, leaving its courtier alone.

"Mr Borisov?"

Only when Tsvetan heard the Doctor calling his name did he know that his hearing had returned too. He decided to test out yet another sense by attempting to reply.

"Wassshappen'd?" Hmmmm. That one could do with a little improvement.

"You fainted during the operation." Dr Braginskaya said, "Not unexpected of course, and there won't be any lasting damage but you still may feel woozy for an hour or two."

Tsvetan nodded slowly, so as not to shake his head up too much. Some of the feeling was beginning to creep back now. It started with a tingling in the tips of his fingers then spread gradually over his arms and body with a curious sort of warmth. When the sensation advanced into his right leg but stopped short at the start of his left he suddenly remembered what the point of this operation had been.

"M'- m'leg…"

Dr Braginskaya knelt down by the side of his bed and put a hand on the covers. "Yes, it's been amputated, all very cleanly and neatly, just as planned. Even better that that, we managed to successfully attach the mechanical one too. Would you like to see it?"

He couldn't give a proper answer but she must have caught his enthusiasm anyway. Pulling back the sheets, she uncovered his left side to display the result. Tsvetan gave a sharp intake of breath. Below his hip came the start of his leg in flesh and skin, just as normal. It continued the entire way down in line with his right side, the only difference being that it turned to metal a couple of inches later. It was as if his leg had transformed itself into an exact technological replica.

Only this one didn't hurt like hell.

Gingerly, he tried lifting up his left knee. The leg responded instantly to his movement, elevating with a whirr of gears.

"Careful!" Dr Braginskaya warned him, pushing it gently down again, "It's very new, you don't want to damage it."

But Tsvetan didn't care. This leg was a pure miracle and he intended to worship his ability to use it. He wanted to run around the room or use his bed as a trampoline or take an airship out into the skies again. For the moment, he settled for wiggling his foot and felt a rush of pleasure as it obeyed unquestioningly.

"Wasss- What's th'time?" he asked, once he'd checked that all of his toes were in working condition. It looked dusky outside but he couldn't tell exactly.

"Nearly nine o'clock. It's too late for you to do anything tonight really, so you might as well just rest until the morning."

"A-aand t'morrow?"

"Tomorrow, you should be up and about just like normal. And your speech should be back to its full ability too." Dr Braginskaya winked at him. "Since there'll be no point in you staying in the infirmary after that, do you have anywhere to go?"

Tsvetan took a moment to consider this. He still had to fulfil his duty, that much was certain. Technically, the safest option would be to ignore everyone else in the city until the opportunity came but there was something holding him back. Or, perhaps more accurately, some_one_.

_It's for the plan, _Tsvetan told himself firmly, _Not because you… _Even in his head, he couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence. He turned back to Dr Braginskaya.

"D'you have Alin's ad'ress?"

* * *

There was no doubt about it. Tsvetan was deviating from the plan.

_It doesn't matter,_ he kept repeating to himself, _I'll still_ _be able to fulfil my duty. Definitely_. After all, Alin's trust was pivotal as far as the plan was concerned. He was the one who was going to hand him that opportunity on a plate. He was the one who was going to betray his country as a result of his thickheadedness and not even realise his mistake until afterwards. So that was the key, get close to Alin, yes, but not _too_ close. Too close and… well, there'd be complications.

Taking him out on an airship didn't count as getting too close, did it? Tsvetan wasn't sure where the offer had come from when he'd blurted it out a couple of days ago. Maybe it was a means of paying him back. Tsvetan was a decent person and he hated the feeling of being indebted to anyone, especially to the enemy. So perhaps it didn't matter too much that this hadn't been part of the original plan.

Besides, Tsvetan couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so happy. Piloting in a storm was one thing, but piloting again in the calm of the early morning made it seem like his heart was soaring along with the airship. He could tell that their trip was making Alin happy too. He was the best passenger anyone could ever hope for; gasping in awe and scrambling to see out of the window as they lifted off the ground. He deserved a little happiness, Tsvetan decided. For the time being anyhow.

* * *

Growing restless with waiting in the infirmary, Tsvetan had left early that morning and walked down to the Ryderian army airship base. His new leg was working like magic, the gears clinking softly whenever he took a step. The base was only just opening when he arrived and he booked the first airship of the day for a trip to collect cargo, or so he'd claimed. When the man behind the desk had asked for his name, Tsvetan had given Alin's and told him that he would make the payment in a couple of days time. The man nodded in response, scribbling down his contact details without a care in the world. Little did he know that neither he nor Alin would ever get the chance to pay it back.

After that, Tsvetan had decided to test his leg's new capabilities by running all the way to Alin's address in the city outskirts. There was no response when he tried knocking but, upon discovering that the door was unlocked, he slipped inside by himself. His first thought when he entered Alin's house was that it deserved a better name. 'Hut' probably would have been a more appropriate term, or even 'shack'. There were only two rooms in the whole building, both dusty, dimly lit and cramped. Tsvetan found this absurd. Back at home in Hepworth, the men and women who worked for the army were rewarded for their bravery with houses that were practically the size of palaces. Were Ryderian soldiers expected to live in semi-poverty? As he walked, the cogs on his leg left jingled. His new, immaculate, expensive left leg. Guilt writhed within him.

He'd found Alin in the other room, fast asleep on what must have been the only bed. His brother Andrei was nuzzled up to his chest beside him, with Alin's arms encircling his shoulders. Standing in the corner, Tsvetan watched on like a parasite as Alin slept; this man who was the biggest idiot he'd ever met but still held a certain fascination over him. Alin was far from pretty sleeper. His snores sounded like a chainsaw on full blast and his mouth hung wide open, leaving a pool of dribble on the pillow. Yet Tsvetan couldn't help but enjoy the sight. In a foolish and endearing sort of way… it was even strangely cute.

Alin awoke a few minutes later, his eyes blinking open heavily. When he looked up to see Tsvetan in the room with him they widened in shock.

"Hello." Tsvetan whispered so as not to wake Andrei, "Did you have a good sleep?"

"Ts-Tvetan?"

"Alive and well. And look," he came over to the bedside and lifted up the left leg of his trousers, "Dr Braginskaya managed to attach it."

"Your leg." Alin stoked his fingertips along the shin like he was handling a sacred treasure. "Does it feel okay?"

"It's as good as new. _Better_ than new, in fact."

Alin continued staring at it, unable to tear his eyes away. "I just can't believe it. You survived! You can walk again!"

"And take you out flying too." He knelt down to Alin's level and met his eye. "If you want to come with me, I'll make good on my word."

"What, _now_?"

"Yes, now. The sun's only just up so it'll be quieter. More peaceful. More-" He stopped himself just before saying the word 'romantic'. _Stupid, stupid boy_. "Well, o-only if you want to, that it."

"Want to? Of course I flipping want to!"

Alin threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed. Tsvetan noticed that he was almost fully dressed already in the same shirt and trousers from yesterday. The same trousers and shirt that he always wore. Fumbling around on the floor, Alin found his waistcoat and pulled it on.

"I guess Andrei's going to have to cope on his own for an hour or two."

"Yeah." Tsvetan gave his brother a quick glance as he slept on in blissful innocence. How old was he exactly? Seven? Eight? Less than ten years old and completely dependent on his brother. The very thought made Tsvetan feel like his insides were rotting.

"Um, Tsvet?" Alin was looking at him in _that _wayagain. With his cheeks bright red and his eyes averted and smiling the most ridiculous of smiles. "There's… there's no one else coming, is there? Just- just the two of us."

"Yeah. Just the two of us."

As he spoke, Tsvetan felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He cursed himself silently.

* * *

They'd been flying long enough to leave Dunning City behind when Tsvetan put the brakes on and set the airship to anchor mode. Alin frowned at him.

"Why have we stopped? It hasn't broken down, has it?"

"No, don't worry." Tsvetan stood up, fixing all the controls back to neutral. "I just thought you might like to… to take a walk up top, that's all."

Tsvetan hated himself for the way the last part sounded. The way it came out in a gabble like his heart had suddenly taken control of his mouth. He even hated himself for the very suggestion. But when he saw Alin's face light up, the resentment just seemed to melt away.

"We can? It's not too dangerous, then?"

"There's a deck above the gondola which is completely flat. It's perfectly safe to walk on, trust me."

Alin's eyes glazed over dreamily. "You don't have to tell me to do that, you know."

Tsvetan cleared his throat and turned away. "Al-alright. Follow me, then."

Being familiar with this airship model, Tsvetan lead him into the engine room and felt around the roof for the hatch. His fingers pressed against a loose board and a cog clicked into place.

"Aha!"

He lowered the trapdoor and reached through for the handles on the other side. It was a mark of how drained the hospitalisation process had left him that he found himself struggling. His once-muscular pilot's arms hung limply as his body dangled in midair, simply unable to heave himself up.

"Need a little help there?"

Tsvetan felt a warm pair of hands from behind on his backside, pushing him up. Face flaring, he clambered through the hatch as quickly as he could and knelt on the deck.

"Uh, yeah, thanks for that."

Alin chuckled as he held up his own arms. "Aren't you going to pull me up too, Captain Borisov?"

Tsvetan leaned down and grabbed Alin's wrists to help him through. No way was he going to let Alin's hands touch his body again, even an innocent part. Every time they did, he could feel his heart turn jittery and the memory of Commander Jones' face become increasingly blurred.

One last pull and Alin tumbled onto the deck beside him, panting. Only after they'd been sitting there for a moment did Tsvetan realise he was still clutching Alin's wrists. He let go of them in an instant.

"Oh. Oh _wow_." Alin suddenly scrambled to his feet and gazed around him, transfixed. "So this is what people mean when they talk about the view from an airship."

"Haven't you ever seen anything from this height before?" Tsvetan said, standing up.

Alin shook his head. "Never. I didn't expect it to look like this, somehow. It's… it's _beautiful_."

With a whoop, he charged over to one side of the deck like a child out of control. Tsvetan ran to catch up.

"Careful, careful!" He put a hand on Alin's shoulder to steady him as he leaned over the edge. "Can't you just try to… calm down a bit?"

Alin's grin was the picture of mischief. "Thought you said it wasn't dangerous?"

"It isn't. You're just pushing the boundaries."

Alin laughed openly at that and turned back to gaze out beyond. "So, that's Dunning City down there, is it?"

"The very same."

Over the years, Tsvetan had seen views like this a thousand times or more yet he couldn't help sharing in Alin's awe. The city appeared as a maze of grey from this height, the distance taking away all the ugliness of the industrialised world. The sky was the only twisted street around them now and the clouds the only buildings. Aside from the gentle _chug-chug-chug _of the engine, there wasn't a sound to be heard. It was a serene moment; one that was worth being awestruck by and worth treasuring for ever. Just… why did it have to be _now_. Why did it have to be with _him._

"So then," Tsvetan said, resting his forearms against the side. "Can you make out any of the buildings from here."

"I-I think so." Alin squinted, then pointed excitedly. "See that big one there? That's King Francis' palace."

"Oh right." Did his voice sound nonchalant enough? He hoped so. "So the street next to it is where he comes out to meet the public on his parades?"

"Yep! I'll have to take you there some time, maybe tomorrow. And look!" He pointed out another building; a boarded up block the colour of charcoal.

"What's that supposed to be, a prison?" Tsvetan asked.

"Idiot! It's the army base. I go to work and get assignments there every day." There was a hint of regret in Alin's voice as he said that. He chewed his bottom lip with one pointy tooth. "It's funny, isn't it? The army base is big enough to see from here, but I can't make out the infirmary at all. That's not the way it should be."

"Yeah… I guess."

A stretch of silence passed between them as they each stared vacantly into the real world beneath them. Tsvetan felt his head spin with the altitude and was just beginning to wonder whether he should ask Alin to come back inside when he started speaking again.

"I hate the war." he said quietly.

Tsvetan stared at him, almost too shocked to speak. "Wh-what? What d'you m-"

"I mean that it's pointless." Alin snapped, "When children get into arguments at schools, the teachers tell them to talk it over, not to fight. So why is it that adults are behaving so childishly? It doesn't make any sense."

Tsvetan tried unsuccessfully to ignore him. There were dangers in hearing people express opinions like this; the main danger being that the wild side of him that he thought had long vanished might be inclined to listen.

He shrugged. "Sometimes, problems get too big to just 'talk over.'"

"Even more reason to try, then!" Alin closed his eyes and squeezed his hands into fists. "All this fucking war does is encourage more hatred. Like the stuff they tell us about you lot- that you're all evil and you can't be trusted. When really, you're just the same as we are."

Ropes coiled around Tsvetan's insides and twisted them into a ball.

"I mean, look at _you_," Alin continued, "You're supposed to be the enemy of my country but you're… you're just so…"

Unable to finish he trailed off and shook his head but Tsvetan understood. Mostly because that was exactly the way he himself felt about Alin. There was only so long his conscience could kid his mind for and that time was perilously close to running out.

A sudden gust of wind rippled through the air and the ship rocked back and forth. Alin swayed under the unexpected movement, sprawling forwards. Without thinking, Tsvetan held out his arms and caught him.

He knew something was different when Alin didn't immediately pull away. When he straightened carefully so that Tsevtan's arms were still enveloping his waist. When he looked straight into his eyes with a burning, reckless gaze. Oh _God_, the desire! That consuming, knee-weakening and aching lust that his conscience could never even hope to match. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tsvetan heard a voice screaming about his duty but it sounded so much weaker than before.

Because when he finally kissed Alin's lips, Tsvetan stopped thinking about his duty. In fact, he stopped thinking about anything at all. His eyes closed, his head titled to the side and he let himself become entirely absorbed in the moment. The one thing on his mind now was Alin; Alin kissing back, Alin parting his lips and caressing his tongue, the taste of him, the feel of his stiffened body, the smell of furnace smoke and engine grease lingering on his clothes. Ali; the most real and wonderful thing in the entire world.

Far too soon, they broke apart. Tsvetan could feel Alin staring at him for some kind of verdict and he tore his eyes away. Now the guilt and embarrassment would start settling in, he just knew it. Any moment now. Yet he waited and neither came. The trouble was, while he was standing here with this man who'd done so much for him, far away from the wide world, Tsvetan's head kept on spinning and spinning. Only this time, he was certain that it had nothing to do with the altitude.

* * *

"You're late!"

Erzsébet was leaning against the leg of the Walker as Alin skidded into the room. Her arms were folded and her eyebrows raised into an expression which suggested that she was not at all amused.

"Where the hell have you been, Radacanu?"

"Sorry! I was… I was just…" Alin struggled to find a reasonable answer. What exactly _had _he been doing all day? It was well into evening now, hours after Tsvetan had kissed him on top of the airship, but his brain hadn't seemed to be functioning properly ever since. "I was just doing other stuff, okay?"

"Is that other stuff that involves Tsvetan, by any chance?"

"No!" Alin said, far too quickly.

Erzsbet rolled her eyes and pushed him towards the ladder. "Get in. We've actually got work to do, in case you'd forgotten."

The two of them climbed into the Walker and settled down in their places with the usual silence and mutual hatred hanging over them. It was Erzsébet's turn to drive today so she fired up the controls while Alin threw coals onto the incinerator and set it alight. They waited a few minutes for the Walker to warm up before Erzsébet navigated it carefully out of the building and towards their mountain route.

"You know this mission is a complete waste of time, don't you?" Alin said as they climbed the first pathway.

"Officer Kirkland doesn't seem to think so."

Alin snorted. "Like Officer Kirkland knows anything about it. I spoke to Tsvetan about the mission and he told me it was just a practice. They weren't even planning to attack us."

"Yes, but a practice for _what_?" said Erzsébet, "Anyway, that might not even be true."

"It damn well is."

Alin didn't care what anyone else thought, he knew Tsvetan was telling the truth. He was such a gentle, careful man, especially when he was piloting. _And _he'd been drafted into the Hepworthian army through no choice of his own. He could never hurt anyone, duty or no duty.

"I still don't understand why he's had such a strong effect on you." Erzsébet said quietly, "I mean, he's handsome, yes, but that's no indication of what he's like on the inside."

She sounded so doubtful that Alin wanted to snap and tell her that Tsvetan was special and perfect in every single way. He decided to put it into terms that she'd understand.

"He's my Roderich." he said fiercely, "I love him and care for him in just the same way as you do for your prissy boyfriend."

"How can you? You've known him for a week!"

"That's long enough."

Alin said it partly because it was true and partly because he knew it was true and partly because he knew she'd never be able to come up with an adequate response. Sure enough, they lapsed into silence for the remained of the journey there.

As they neared the site of the crash, Alin's heart quickened and fluttered with an awful sense of nervous foreboding. It felt a bit like waiting for an inspection, only worse. He couldn't quite put his finger on why this was exactly. Was it the idea of seeing and handling those haunting dead shipmates again? Was it the raw memory of Tsvetan's limp and dying body? Alin felt his palms begin to sweat and his stomach turn over horribly. This wasn't just a case of nerves, this was downright _fear_.

"Héderváry, I think we should turn back." He took a deep breath. "I really don't have a good feeling about this at all."

Erzsébet didn't respond. Irritated, Alin whirled around from the incinerator to face her.

"I'm serious, Héderváry, this isn't going to…"

_Oh_. He hadn't realised that they'd stopped moving. Or that Erzsébet was no longer managing the controls. Instead, she was leaning forward and staring through the observation window as if fixated.

"I-I don't believe it." she said weakly. "It… it can't be. It _can't_."

Alin rushed towards the control panel in a panic. "Oh God. What's wrong?"

Then he looked out and saw just what. His jaw dropped.

They had arrived at the site of the crash. But now, everything had changed. A week ago, the broken airship had lain in pieces like a corpse. Now, the only thing he could see at the foot of the mountain was a deep, wide and consuming crater. Every trace of the wreckage had vanished from sight.

"Are- are you sure this is the place?" he asked, although he was almost certain of it.

"Postitve." Erzsébet whispered. "I remember lowering you down; the structure of the cliff face is just the same."

"Then what happened?"

She had no answer for him. How could _she_ explain the spontaneous disappearance of an entire airship? How could anyone, for that matter.

"You don't think someone from our crew has already been here, do you?" Alin said, "Came to clear everything up before us?"

Erzsébet shook her head. "I can't see Officer Kirkland sending us on a fool's errand. Not during wartime."

"Maybe it was the Hepworthians, then." Alin said, desperately clutching at straws, "Maybe they knew about the crash and came to take the bodies home."

"I don't think so." said Erzsébet, "I mean, look at the size of that crater. That's not the sign of something being calmly tidied away. That's the sign of an explosion."

Alin swallowed hard. "But… how?"

Aside from a meteorite falling straight from space, how was it possible for an unarmed airship on a practice run to explode? Had somebody in another airship dropped a bomb on it maybe? He doubted that; the sighting would surely have been reported with security as tight as it was at the moment.

"Do you think we should go down and check it over?" he asked.

Erzsébet looked at him, her eyebrows raised. "What's there to check, Radacanu? We've got to face it, the airship has gone."

"Come on! Just to be on the safe side."

Wearily, Erzsébet reached into the pocket of her driver's jacket and pulled out a pair of high-tech binoculars.

"Here," she said, thrusting them into his hands, "Take a look through these if you really want to make sure."

Alin held the lenses up to his eyes and trained then on the crater. After adjusting a cog in the middle of the binoculars, the scene span into focus. Close up, the crater was not quite as empty as it first appeared. Bits of rubble and fabric torn from the airbag littered the pit. At the edge lay a small, white object which upon closer observation turned out to be a mask. A shiver ran through him.

Scanning the crater, Alin's attention finally caught on another object in the middle; a kind of emblem or something. It was so small that he had to rectify the lenses again and zoom up just to make it out. He almost dropped the binoculars in shock. The object was a tiny pentagon with the sign of two crossed bones carved onto the metal surface. Alin would have recognised that anywhere.

It was the sign of the AS-4000; the most powerful explosive ever invented. A sign, in short, that Tsvetan's airship had somehow been mixed up in something very dangerous indeed.

Hands shaking, Alin lowered the binoculars.

"What is it?" Erzsébet asked.

"Nothing." said Alin, turning his back so he didn't have to look at it ever again, "There's nothing down there to see."

Never in all his life had he felt so conflicted.

* * *

***To be continued...***


	6. Betrayal

Alin slept fitfully that night.

He hugged Andrei into his chest more firmly that usual, comforted by the steady rhythm of his breathing and his tiny, racing heartbeat. The days trials had left Alin truly exhausted but whenever he closed his eyes, a barrage of doubts invaded his mind.

Tsvetan's airship had been carrying explosives. There could be no other explanation for what he'd seen. Yet the conclusion only sparked off more burning questions, each more precarious than the last. What were the explosives even for? He remembered the sheer depth of the crater and the pieces of shredded airship scattered around it with a shudder. Those explosives surely had the potential to destroy entire buildings. Why would an airship need to be equipped with such dangerous weaponry if it was only a practice mission?

More to the point, had Tsvetan known about this? Alin refused to believe that he had. Not Tsvetan, not quiet, modest Tsvetan who needed help getting through the hatch and had caught him when he was about to fall. There was no way he could have know that the power to take lives rested in his hands. Perhaps there'd been some kind of mix-up and he'd piloted the wrong airship by mistake. Perhaps the Hepworthian army often made trainees carry explosives for good practice. Perhaps there had been some ulterior objective that Tsvetan hadn't been told about. Yeah… there could be any number of explanations.

When Alin finally fell asleep, his dreams were dark and twisted. He saw Tsvetan's face as it had been before he'd kissed him yesterday; hopeful and tentative and shining with love. Then, there was a loud _bang _and his head was blown straight from his shoulders. Blood poured down his neck and onto the floor, curving into the shape of a pair of crossed bones. And the sound of manic laughter rang in Alin's ears.

* * *

The midday sun glared hot upon the paving stones. Moving into the shade, Tsvetan checked his pocket-watch for the third time in five minutes. It was quarter to one; nearly fifteen minutes past the time at which he and Alin had agreed to meet.

He slipped the chain back into his pocket and frowned, wondering if he had a right to be worried yet. He that knew Alin was total scatterbrain but it wasn't like him to forget _their _appointments. Desperately, he scanned the crowds for some sign of him. Never once in the week that he'd been hospitalised had Alin failed to visit. His absence now was making Tsvetan feel very uneasy indeed. Feeling his face grow clammy, he raised his sleeve to his forehead and dabbed away the beads of sweat forming there. A man passing by noticed and winked at him.

"Warm today, isn't it? You'd never believe it, with all those storms we had last week."

Tsvetan nodded and tried to raise a smile but it wouldn't come. He was well aware of the real reason he that was sweating and it had nothing remotely to do with the heat. Underneath his shirt, the metal of Commander Jones' bolt gun pressed hard against his skin, resting over his heart. A reminder of his duty.

"Hey Tsvetan!"

He turned and to his relief, Alin was running through the streets towards him.

"Sorry I'm late!" he said, stopping next to Tsvetan and running a hand through his hair, "My boss has been giving me a bit of trouble after yesterday's scouting mission. And I didn't sleep that well either. And then I had to get Andrei breakfast and-"

"Alin." Tsvetan cupped Alin's cheek with his hand, promptly silencing him. "It's fine. You're here now, aren't you?"

"Yeah. That's true, I suppose."

Alin's cheeks were so red that Tsvetan could practically feel the heat radiating from them. Taking his hand away, he started to walk down the street, Alin by his side.

"So… do you fancy seeing anything special today?"

Tsvetan shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Whatever you'd recommend."

He crossed his fingers tightly behind his back, hoping. Alin pondered the thought.

"Well, we're not to far from the palace." he said, "If we get a move on, we might be able to make it in time for the daily procession."

"Sounds great to me."

"Alright, this way then."

Alin led him onto the main street, twisting towards the centre of the city. It was extremely crowded at this time in the day and Tsvetan found himself jostled at all angles by the rush of people. A hot trail of sweat snaked down his back. Any longer and Tsvetan knew his nerves would be in shreds before they even arrived. He was just about to suggest taking a quieter route when he felt a sudden tug against his arm and glanced down. Alin had slipped his hand into his, their fingers snugly laced together.

"What?" he said, when Tsvetan looked at him, eyebrows raised. "It's just to stop us getting separated! Nothing more."

_Nothing more_. Tsvetan wanted to believe that just as much as he wanted to believe that his own heart wasn't racing at the contact but neither were particularly convincing. Not that it mattered, though. In fact, he might as well just enjoy holding hands with Alin while he still could.

* * *

Five minutes later, they arrived at the long road leading up to the palace gates. The palace itself was still quite a way from where they were, but Tsvetan found his eyes drawn to it. He'd never seen such a magnificent building in all his life, nor one so intricately detailed. It was the sort of building which only pure white marble could be good enough for; the sort of building which had columns, arches and fountains as decorative features rather than for practicality. From the top floor of the palace, a large dome protruded. Tsvetan wondered what it was used for. Probably King Francis' ballroom or something ridiculous like that.

Alin grinned as he watched him stare at the palace in wonder. "Bet you've never seen anything like this before."

"I haven't." Tsvetan admitted, "We don't have a monarchy in Hep- where I'm from, just a republic. This is all very new to me."

"And exciting too, I hope?"

"Oh definitely." _Though not quite in the way you're thinking._

Alin laughed, oblivious. Slinging an arm around his shoulder, he leaned in and kissed his forehead.

"Crap, you're sweating loads!" he said as he pulled his lips away, "Is the heat getting to you a bit?"

Tsvetan looked aside, dabbing his forehead shakily with the back of his hand. "A bit. My- um- my hometown lies directly under the mountains so it, er, doesn't tend to get this amount of sunlight."

"Mmmm, that makes sense. Here," He dug a crumpled handkerchief from his back pocket. "I'm pretty sure this is still clean."

It wasn't clean- Tsvetan could see oil and charcoal smudges staining the cloth- but at this point he didn't care. He wiped everywhere he could; his face, the back of his neck, his fringe and his clammy trembling palms. None of this did anything to settle his nerves. Stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket, he took a deep, shuddering breath. _Stop sweating, stop shaking, stop getting hysterical. You'll give the game away. _Alin was watching him carefully.

"Do you want to move into the shade? he asked, "Look, there's a tree over there, you can still get a really good view if you climb up and sit on the branches."

Tsvetan nodded and they squeezed their way through the waiting crowds to the unoccupied apple tree on the verge of the road. Tsvetan decided that he would hoist Alin up this time and allowed himself to be helped onto the branches by the hands alone_. Best to avoid as many embarrassments as possible, _he thought as he settled back against the tree trunk. Unfortunately, Alin seemed to have other ideas. Other ideas that involved pulling Tsvetan's back into his chest so that his head rested on Alin's shoulder. Panic flooded Tsvetan as Alin wrapped his arms around his torso but to his relief, he didn't appear to notice the shoulder strap. _Thank God. _

"The King's taking his time. He's usually out here by now." Alin said, jiggling his foot impatiently, "I suppose that's lucky, though. We'd have missed him otherwise."

"Yeah. That- that is lucky."

While he still had time, Tsvetan scanned his surroundings. He truly couldn't have hoped for a better position than this. The tree was in full view of the road yet the branches still provided enough shelter and obscurity for him to go temporally unnoticed. Not even the crowds that were facing in the right direction had bothered to look their way. Tsvetan snaked a hand under his shirt and teased his finger against the trigger of the gun, his heartbeat quickening. _If you're brave and you don't hesitate, _he told himself,_ this might just actually work. _

Suddenly, the sound of trumpets blared from the palace, followed by the roar of the crowd. Tsvetan leaned forwards to see the palace gates heaving open a carriage with golden steam-powered wheels emerged onto the path. He was too far away to make out the King exactly from here but he could see that the carriage's hood was exposed and that the man inside was standing to wave to his citizens. Alin shifted behind him.

"There he is!"

Tsvtean sat up straighter and mopped another film of sweat from his forehead.

The carriage advanced slowly down the street; slowly enough for each and every member of the crowd to catch a glimpse of the King. Two palace guards dressed in purple robes marched on either side of the vehicle to control the mob. One had dark hair tied in ribbons while the other was tall, muscular and bespectacled. Both looked thoroughly exasperated, as if they'd had to endure a similar occasion all too many times. Neither, Tsvetan noticed, appeared to be paying even the slightest bit of attention towards the King.

As the procession advanced, the cheering grew steadily louder and more passionate, ringing in Tsvetan's ears like the sound of buzzing insects. The King was much closer now. Through the crowd, Tsvetan caught sight of his face. King Francis wore no crown but the sun shone directly on the top of his head, forging him his own glowing golden coronet. His eyes were dazzlingly blue- the colour of sapphires- and his hand seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. Tsvetan found himself taken aback just by how majestic he appeared. He gritted his teeth. _That man is scrum, _he forced himself to remember, _dirty, self-obsessed scrum_. The words were so forced that they didn't even sound real in his head. How could he see King Francis as a devil when he looked so utterly angelic?

He forced his eyes away and scowled. He was overthinking things again, just as he had been with everything lately. When was he going to realise that nothing good could ever come of overthinking? Only the danger of being misled.

The carriage was starting to pass under their tree now. Close enough to hear the rumbling of the wheels underneath. Licking his dry lips, Tsvetan slipped a hand under the collar of his shirt. His fingers were shaking so much that the bolt gun almost slid from his grip as he retrieved it. Through some miracle, he managed to hang on. Alin nudged his shoulder.

"Lost for words, are you?" he said, his voice a million miles away, "I know it's pretty special to see a regal precession for the first time, but-"

"Alin." Tsvetan said. He could stand it no longer.

"Tsvetan!" Alin said back jovially. There was not even a trace of questioning in his tone. "Come on, what is it?"

Tsvetan twirled the gun in his hands. "Alin, I'm so sorry."

And he meant it. He meant every single word.

Alin gave an unsteady laugh. "What's up? Why are you apologising all of a sudden."

Tsvetan couldn't bring himself to meet his eye. _You coward._

"I really, really am sorry about this." His voice was reduced to a whisper.

He raised the gun and trained it on King Francis' chest. His heart was throbbing- whether out of nerves or regret he could not tell- but his mind felt strangely clear as he rested his finger on the trigger. _Squeeze the trigger, kid, _he heard Commander Jones' voice telling him, _Squeeze, don't pull. _Tsvetan closed his eyes. _This is for you, Commander Jones, Hepworth, my homeland._

Then he squeezed the trigger.

* * *

The arrow was only small but it found the mark in an instant, hammering the King straight in the chest. Alin reeled as if he too had been shot. _No! _His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach; his mouth fell open in a silent yell to echo those of the crowd. _He didn't just do that. Not- not Tsvetan!_

Chaos exploded around him. There was a growing patch of scarlet around where the arrow had come to rest but it was the King's face that looked in worse condition. A light purple in colour, constantly darkening, while his eyes rolled back demonically. His tongue drooped from his vacant mouth like an animal's. _Poison, _Alin thought with a shiver_. _

People were swarming forward in shaken, confused and hysterical masses.

"Keep back!" yelled one of the guards, flinging his arms around the carriage, "This is an official matter! Keep back, I said!"

His voice was drowned out by the screams.

The other guard had climbed up on the carriage beside the King in the desperate attempt to give him medical attention, but it was already far too late. Watching his struggle for survival was torturous. King Francis choked and spluttered, scratching at his neck with clawed fingernails while his life steadily drained away. When he breathed in, the sound was hollow and frail like it was drawn through a reed. Alin found it impossible to look away. It was torturous to watch, yes, but at the same time so terribly, hideously captivating.

The King finally slumped back, collapsing against the velvet carriage seats. The nearest guard knelt down to check his pulse and a hush rippled over the crowd. Alin braced himself. There was still a hope, wasn't there? Still a hope that Tsvetan, his sweet Tsvetan, wasn't a murderer?

The guard stood. "He's dead!" she proclaimed, her voice wavering, "King Francis is dead!"

Despair consumed him. _No, no no! _This couldn't be happening. It had to just be another awful dream, it _had _to. Yet the nightmare continued. As the mass of people resumed their mad panic, Alin felt something heavy land in his lap. It was a gun; the gun which, less than two minutes ago, had been used to kill the King of Ryder.

"Ts- Tsvetan?" Alin said weakly.

The other man ignored him and leapt from the branch to the ground below. For a moment, Alin thought that he was going to make a run for it. He had a decent chance while the guards were distracted, after all. But instead of bolting away from the crowds, he ran towards them, waving his arms and shouting.

"Murderer, murderer! There's an assassin up there who killed the King!"

At first, Alin was confused. Then Tsevetan pointed wildly in the direction of the tree- _his _direction- and the reality crashed upon him like a ton of bricks.

"I saw him!" Tsvetan was yelling to the guards, "I saw him pull the trigger with my own eyes! Look, he's still holding the gun!"

Alin hastily let the weapon slip out of his hands but the damage had already been done. Suddenly, the crowds were screaming for a different reason. Swarming towards a different target. _Run! Run now, _Alin's mind urged but his legs refused to move. His heart was in far too much pain for that. He tried to scan the mob for another glimpse of Tsvetan but the surrounding street was thick with people. They began circling the tree and the furious chants began.

"Traitor scum!"

"Murderer!"

"Seize him! Seize him!"

The urgency sent a surge of adrenaline finally pumping through Alin's legs. Delayed almost to the point of uselessness now, but… well, he might as well give it a go. He vaulted from the branch as far as he could, aiming for an empty patch. His landing was nowhere near as elegant as Tsvetan's had been. Pulling himself out of the stumble, Alin tore down the street.

"Hey! Get back here!"

_Fuck, _it was the voice of that terrifyingly-athletic guardsman. Who would of course be a hell of a lot faster than he was. Alin increased his pace, sprinting frantically like his life depended on it. Which it probably did. He glanced over his shoulder as he ran; the guard was gaining on him, so very near to catching up. But Alin's gaze was drawn elsewhere. He noticed a sudden figure among the crowd. A sudden familiar face watching on like any innocent civilian. _Tsvetan_.

Their eyes only met for a moment but it was long enough to throw Alin off guard. He tripped and, this time, tumbled to straight to the ground. The guard was onto him in an instant, hauling him up in a pair of powerful arms.

"Young man, you are under arrest." he unhooked one side of the chain around his belt and tightened it painfully around Alin's arm, "Under arrest on suspicion of his late Majesty's murder!"

Alin thrashed under his grip. "You don't understand, it _wasn't_ me who did it! It was… it was…"

But the rest of the sentence died in his throat. Alin looked down, his stomach squeezing into a tight knot. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't bring himself to blame Tsvetan for the crime. Even though he had just betrayed Alin in the worst way possible. The thought was so painful that it sickened him.

Yanking the chain, the guard began to drag him away. Away from the crowds, away from the palace, away from his life as an ordinary Ryderian soldier. They neared the end of the street and Alin turned his head around. One last look was all he needed, one last glance at the man who had been his beloved. But it was already too late.

Tsvetan had disappeared.

* * *

***It hurt me to kill off Francis like that, I must admit. Well, it was his own fault really. Touring around in an open-top vehicle rarely ends well for national leaders. The only this this means is that there can't be any FrUK in this universe, which is such a shame. Ah well...***


	7. Killed by Duty

Two hours until his execution, Alin sat in the gloom of his cell and deliberated over what had killed him.

He supposed the short answer was Tsvetan. The man he'd carried from a burning airship and created a mechanical body part for and kissed beneath the clouds. The man he'd proudly declared to be in love with and who had loved him fiercely in return- or so he'd thought. Realising now that it had all been a lie stung like salt rubbed into a wound.

Tsvetan hadn't meant any of it; not the kiss, not the admiration, nothing. Oh, he'd been convincing all right, pretending to get all blushy whenever he was in Alin's presence and smiling that painfully-handsome smile. But on reflection, the warning signs had all been glaringly obvious. How much he'd been sweating this morning; how he always seemed guilty; the powerful explosives- he realised now that they must have been to drop on the palace- stashed away inside his airship's hold. When Tsvetan watched Alin steadily falling head over heels, it must have been difficult not to laugh at his utter stupidity. Assassination was a difficult task to fulfil but Alin had made it easier at every stage.

With a groan, Alin slammed his foot against the prison wall. He hated Tsvetan for what he'd done to him- how he'd manipulated his emotions for his own twisted cause- he hated him with every fibre of his being. But at the same time… he couldn't help it; he was still in love with him too. It was that love which had made it impossible to denounce Tsvetan when Alin had been brought into questioning. If he had told the truth, the authorities might have believed him. No, if he had told the truth, the _would_ have believed him. Undoubtedly.

So in that sense, perhaps Alin had been killed by love.

* * *

There was a leak in one of the bricks on the wall. Grimy water dripped from it incessantly but apart from that the prison was completely silent. Since his interrogation, Alin had been sitting alone in there for nearly twelve hours solid. He was almost beginning to forget what humans sounded like when suddenly a very familiar voice echoed through the prison. A voice which was shouting; arguing with the prison wardens.

"You've got it all wrong, he's innocent! There was a man, a pilot from Hepworth, ask him-"

"You expect us to believe this bullshit, girl?"

"No seriously, just ask him! He'll tell you, we rescued him from a wreckage about a- ahh!"

There was the sound of a fist making contact with skin and a sharp cry. Alin scrambled up and ran to the edge of his cell.

"Erzsébet?" He shook on the bars so that they clanged loudly. "Erzsébet, is that you?"

"Alin!" she shouted back, "Hold on! I won't let them kill you, I won't let- ahhhhh!"

A series of violent noises followed; from what it sounded like, Erzsébet had engaged in an all-out scuffle with the wardens. But Alin knew what the outcome would be. There were three of them, after all, and only one of her.

A moment later, silence resumed.

"Stupid girl." spat one of the wardens, "I've got a good mind to chuck her in a cell herself."

"Just dump her back in the army base." another one suggested, "I don't think she'll be bothering us again."

No more visitors came after that.

* * *

If Alin had been imprisoned a day before, he might have considered the possibility of escaping. Now he knew there was no point. The bars were fixed, the only window was an envelope-sized crack at the top of the wall and he couldn't even summon the strength to attempt to kick down the walls, as thin as they seemed. Besides, where exactly was would he go? If he tried to stay in Ryder he'd be caught, if he tried to flee to another nation… well, Tsvetan was living proof of the treatment he could expect to receive.

In fact, the only thing which stopped Alin making a noose out of his belt and taking his own life now was the thought of Andrei. Oh God, what had the poor kid done to deserve this? Parents dead, brother mere hours away from going the same way, and faced with the prospect of being shamed as the relative of a traitor for the rest of his life. Alin only hoped he'd get a chance to see him before the execution and apologise for everything he'd done. He wondered what would happen to his brother after that. After he was gone and Andrei was alone in the world. A lump caught in Alin's throat, so painful that it took him three attempts to swallow.

Surely he could persuade someone to look after him; he was just too adorable to resist. Like, like Erzsébet and Roderich for example! _Erzsébet_… it was a strange thing to think given that they loathed each other from the day they met, but perhaps she'd been Alin's only true friend all along. Yeah, they'd take good care of Andrei together. Erzsébet could teach him how to drive while Roderich could pay for his education and they'd tuck him in his own enormous bed each night and be the best adoptive parents in the world. Alin squeezed his eyes shut. This time, the lump in his throat only disappeared after the fifth swallow.

The only other thought on Alin's mind was what would become of Tsvetan. Was he already on his way home by now? Alin hated himself for it, but he hoped with all his heart that Tsvetan made it back safely. He'd return to Hepworth to a hero's welcome from his people; he fucking deserved one too with all the effort he put in. Alin also wondered whether Tsvetan would ever spare him and their week together another thought. Probably not. He had been a means to an end, no more than a single pawn on the chessboard of war. Easy to use, easy to discard. How could he blame Tsvetan for that? After all, he was only a pawn himself; bound to play the role he was destined for and nothing more.

One hour until his execution, Alin sat in the gloom of the cell and concluded that it was not love which had killed him. Not really.

It was duty.

* * *

***To be continued... maybe.***


	8. The Impossible

The airship bobbed up and down under the shade of the mountains. Tsvetan Borisov sat in the pilot's chair, twisting the wheel absent-mindedly between his fingers. But he wasn't piloting. Rather, he was contemplating.

Honestly, he wasn't at all sure why he was lingering here, just outside Dunning City. He'd long outstayed his welcome in Ryder. By now, he could be halfway home already. Halfway to his people, to safety and to acclaim for successfully completing one of the most difficult missions imaginable against all odds. He was owed that much, for all the service he'd put in.

For putting his duty above his h-

Furiously, Tsvtean dug his nails into his palms and forced himself not to even _think_ of that last word. _Do not allow yourself to feel, _he thought determinedly, _Feelings kill._

He knew deep down that was thanks to his feelings that he was still here at all. Back in Hepworth, in piloting school, it had been so _easy_ to see the Ryderians as the enemy; as base animals not even worth human consideration. His only initial fears about the assassination were for the possibility that he might miss, and whether or not he'd be able to get away with it. But nothing he'd seen during his week away conformed to the image which his superiors had fed him time and time again. He hadn't seen behaviour that warranted violence and hatred. Here, he'd only seen beauty and kindness and love.

_Love._

No matter how hard he tried, it was becoming harder and harder to keep Alin out of his mind. Alin's eyes, Alin's toothy smile, Alin's lanky yet surprisingly attractive body, Alin's ragged hair, Alin's lips. And Alin after the assassination, with enough hurt and disappointment in his face to drown him in guilt. But still refusing to turn him in. The very thought made Tsvetan's insides feel like lead.

_Alin._

Tsvetan clenched the wheel between his fists and tried not to think of his name. He could wish for things to be different all he liked but nothing good was going come out of it. Nothing good ever came out of overthinking.

* * *

Alin had taken to counting down the seconds systematically, enjoying each and every one as much as possible. The constant rhythm had a calming sort of effect on his breathing, though it filled him with an increasing sense of despair too. Gradually, the slither of light from the window faded with his counting and darkness settled around the cell. It was also cold and extremely damp but Alin wasn't sure that was the only reason for his shivering. He huddled up into a ball, continuing to mutter numbers under his breath. _Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty, one, two, three…_

Shaking slightly, he put a hand to his neck to feel his pulse. The beat was strong and steady under his fingertips. Alin willed it on, knowing that it was impossible, knowing that in less than an hour's time it would stop forever. How many heartbeats were there in an hour exactly? His head felt too giddy to attempt the maths but he could sense the ones that remained slipping through his fingers like sand from an hourglass.

Alin had counted all the way down to twenty-two minutes when he heard the noise. A heavy cracking sound somewhere above him; like a piece of wood snapping in half, or a nose being broken. A couple of angry shouts followed, too distant to be comprehensible, then another identical-sounding crack with a force behind it to rival thunder. It was so dark by this point that Alin couldn't see a thing. He edged closer to the bars on his cell, listening intently.

It was almost completely silent above him now. _Almost. _As he strained his ears, Alin could have sworn he heard the sound of footsteps, pattering cautiously as if they didn't belong there. A moment or two later, a door creaked open and a beam of light flooded the area. Alin had become so accustomed to darkness that he had to shield his eyes and gasped slightly under the brightness. The visitor must have heard this, for the footsteps padded nearer and nearer, coming right up to the bars of his cell.

"Alin!" a voice hissed, "Alin, it's me!"

At first, Alin was certain that he was hallucinating. Then he looked up and saw the face of Tsvetan Borisov in front of him, illuminated by the flickering glow of the lantern. Those same grey eyes, that same protruding forehead, that same effortless grace and charm that Alin had found so irresistible.

"_You!_"

"Yes." Tsvetan breathed. He slipped a hand through the bars to touch him, then let out a cry as Alin pulled away. "Wait! I've got something to say, hear me out on this!"

"I don't care." Alin said through gritted teeth, "I don't care if you've come to talk or gloat or even if you've come apologise. I never want to hear your fucking voice again."

"Alin, please-"

"I hate you!" His voice cracked with the strain of fighting back tears. "I gave you everything, fuck you; your life, your leg, even my own damn heart. And you were planning _this _all along."

"Alin-"

"Just fuck off!" His eyes were burning and he rubbed them on the edge of his cuff. "Fuck off an leave me to die in peace, you-"

"Alin, I love you!"

The outburst was anguished and meaningful, with an honesty so raw that Alin wouldn't have been able to help believing it. If he hadn't known better, that was.

"You don't mean that, do you?" he spat, "You're just trying to convince me to do some other kind of dirty work for you."

"I _do_ mean it." Tsvetan said softly, "I love you. I love you and I don't want you do die because of me. I can't let that happen."

Alin snorted. "Yeah right."

"It's true!" Tsvetan shook on the bars as if to emphasise the point, "I deviated from the plan, Alin. I was never _supposed_ to feel anything for you. But my heart took over my head and it hasn't even let go now."

"Yeah right."

Tsvetan sighed, sounding close to despair.

"Alin, do you remember when I told you that flying was the best feeling in the world?" he said, "Well, I've changed my mind now. When I kissed you on top of the airship, I knew immediately that was better. Better than _anything_. And I meant every moment of it."

Alin whipped around suddenly to face him. He took a step towards the bars, their lips dangerously close.

"Prove it then, you bastard." he whispered.

Tsvetan leant his head through the bars and kissed him.

It wasn't like before. With the bars in the way it was much clunkier and so much more awkward. Tsvetan's lips barely grazed Alin's instead of devouring them and with none of the same intensity as last time. Yet the contact alone still sent Alin's heart soaring. When Tsvetan pulled away, it terrified Alin how much he was already craving more.

"So then," Tsvetan whispered, his face earnest and hopeful, "Do you believe me now?"

Alin averted his eyes, suddenly thankful for the gloom of the cell.

"Why does it even matter now? In case you'd forgotten, they're going to execute me in… in…" Damn it, kissing Tsvetan had made him loose count. "I-In less than twenty-two minutes. It's not like 'the power of love' is going to be able to stop that."

"No. But these can." From the pocket of his waistcoat, Tsvetan extracted and large ring and jangled it in front of Alin's eyes.

Alin stared at it, feeling himself go weak inside. "Keys…"

"Yes. I took them off one of the guards straight after knocking the snot out of him." He held the keys up to the lamplight and studied them frantically, comparing each one to the lock on the door of Alin's cell. "And I've got an airship parked outside too, waiting for us to come back. Can't you see, I'm going to get you out of here!"

Alin watched on in disbelief as he continued checking the keys. Maybe he _was _hallucinating after all because the whole situation was simply too absurd to be true. Tsvetan Borisov had betrayed him in favour of his duty only this afternoon. Coming back to rescue him now not only made no sense; it threw his entire mission into peril.

"Got it!"

Tsvetan found a key and slipped it into the lock on Alin's door, twisting it until he heard a click. The door swung open obediently at his command.

"Alin, come on!" He pushed the door back with one hand while extending the other to Alin. "We've got to go before the wardens come!"

Alin looked from Tsvetan's determined face to his outstretched hand, his heart hammering fearfully. When the light caught on Tsvetan's fingers, they bent out of shape to turn thin and hard. The nails at the tip twisted themselves into sharp spearheads. In the lamplight, Tsvetan's hand became five poisoned arrows, all pointed directly towards Alin's chest. He gulped.

"No." he said, starting to back away, "I'm not coming with you. No way."

Tsvetan lowered his hand slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't trust you!" Alin said wildly, "And why the hell _should_ I after what you did? How am I supposed to know that you won't drop me onto the mountains, or blame some other awful shit on me?"

Tsvtean took a step towards him. "Because I love-"

"Like that even matters!" He shrank away again, retreating back until he felt his back bump against the wall behind. "You loved me this morning too, or so you said, but that didn't stop you trying to trade my life for your fucking duty!

"Alin, listen to me." Tsvetan said through clenched teeth, "If you stay here any longer, _you are going to die_!"

Alin pressed his hands against the wall, wishing he could break all the way through it and disappear. His heartbeat increased to a reckless frenzy.

"And what if I don't care? What if I'd rather die than let you take me off to God-knows-where?"

Tsvetan looked at him for a long moment, his head titled in consideration. Finally, he sighed and placed the lantern on the floor.

"I didn't want to have to do this." he said, "But I don't think you've left me with any choice now."

He moved far more quickly than Alin had expected, catching him completely off guard. By the time Alin tried to step aside, Tsvetan had already darted up to him and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

"What are doing?" He shook his arm furiously, trying to pull away, "Let go!"

Tsvetan ignored him and placed his other hand on Alin's waist.

"Try not to struggle too much." he warned him.

Then he hoisted Alin up and slung him over his shoulder.

"The _fuck_?" Alin shouted. He pounded his fists against Tsvetan's back and struggled desperately. "Put me down! Put me down right now!"

But Tsvetan just shook his head grimly as he flipped the cell door open with his foot. "Not until we reach the airship. Unless you care to get down and walk, of course."

Alin tried everything he could- squirming, screaming, sinking his teeth into Tsvetan's shoulder- yet Tsvetan barely even flinched at his attempts. Grumbling, he shifted his position so that his head remained upright. He'd wondered about being kidnapped by the enemy before but never had imagined it to be anything like this. Definitely not by an enemy who had needed to be delivered to the intensive care unit only a week ago. And _definitely _not by an enemy he was in love with; an enemy who had kissed him through the bars before carrying him away. In fact, this kidnapping felt uncannily like being rescued.

As Tsvetan began to climb the stairs, Alin's hair brushed against the mass of cobwebs on the ceiling. He prodded Tsvetan in the back.

"Hey, be more careful! _I_ treated you like a princess when I carried you from the airship."

"Sorry." Tsvetan said. His voice strained slightly as he moved up another couple of steps. "You're just heavier than you look, that's all."

"Oh, thanks! First you kidnap me away against my will, now you insult my weight. Some gentleman you are!"

Tsvetan merely chuckled at that and transferred Alin's body onto his bicep. He struggled slightly in opening the door with his other hand then moved into the warden's room, carrying Alin with him. The first thing Alin noticed was that the wardens were still there. One was slumped over the table, his bent head surrounded by a pool of blood, while another lay spread-eagled and motionless across the stone floor. A large lump protruded from the top of his head and- if the bloodstained block of wood propped up by the table was anything to go by- Alin had a very good indication of what had caused it.

His jaw dropped open. "Y-you killed them?"

"No, they're just knocked out." said Tsvetan, "They'll come round again in a couple of hours and be as right as rain."

Judging by the extent of their injuries, Alin seriously doubted that. He suppressed a shudder. The more he learnt about Tsvetan- the real Tsvetan- the more he realised how little he truly knew him. The image he'd constructed of the innocent trainee pilot was gradually fading from sight, replaced by this ruthless, cold-blooded enemy killer. This ruthless, cold-blooded killer who was in love with him.

"Um, what did you do with the other warden?" He was almost too afraid to ask.

The floor shook suddenly, making Alin jump. He didn't know whether he was imagining it, but it sounded like something hefty pounding up the stairs.

Tsvetan's body stiffened underneath him. "What 'other warden'."

"There was a third one earlier on here. Just over an hour ago when Erzsebet…" Alin trailed off as the realisation hit him. "He was dropping Erzsebet off at the army base."

Which meant, of course, that he'd be coming back. And sooner rather than later.

As if on cue, the door they'd come through burst open. There was just enough time for Alin to see the infuriated warden standing in the doorway before Tsvetan whipped around and Alin's head faced the opposite direction. He heard Tsvetan curse violently under his breath.

"Who the hell are you?" the warden said, then cried out in anguish, "God! What's happened here? You- you've got the fucking prisoner!"

Alin bent his head around Tsvetan and caught a glimpse of the warden running over to a telephone on the side table. He wound up the crank in a frenzy, practically shouting into the receiver.

"Hello? Ryder military headquarters? We've got a situation to report here at-"

But he got no further. The next thing Alin knew, he was being tossed out of Tsvetan's arms, smashing hard onto the floor below. His head reeled with the suddenness of the impact but he scrambled to sitting position as quickly as he could.

Tsvetan was charging towards the warden, flinging himself right at his back. The warden looked a good deal heftier, but stumbled on the contact. It was something about the way Tsvtean's arms caught around his waist; something which put his legs in a twist and sent him sprawling to the ground. The receiver slipped from his hands.

Tsvetan released the man just in time to prevent himself toppling over too. He straightened up and loomed over the warden while he desperately flipped over to his front. As Tsvetan raised his new mechanical leg, Alin could see the sheer terror reflected in the warden's eyes.

Alin knew what was about to happen but that didn't stop him flinching as the heavy metal foot crashed down onto the warden's face. His scream was high and heartrending, shaking Alin to the core. Blood spurted fresh from all angles and Alin felt the bile rise up his throat. He flung his hands over his eyes.

There was the sound of a couple more slamming kicks, then silence; the most disturbing, eerie silence that Alin had ever heard. He wrapped his arms around his own trembling body and took several deep breaths.

"Alin?" Tsvetan was standing beside him, his hand outstretched. "Are you alright? Can you stand?"

The worst thing of all was that Tsvetan sounded entirely untroubled by the whole ordeal. He hadn't even broken into a sweat. Alin tried not to glance at his feet but he could see the warden's blood dripping over Tsvetan's mechanical toes out of the corner of his eye. Against his better judgement, he took Tsvetan's hand.

"You can't tell me that this one's going to be 'right as rain' too." he managed to say.

Tsvetan set his jaw. "Probably not. But he chose to stand between us and that's the price he's going to have to pay."

Alin shook his head, half incredulous, half extremely unnerved. "That's- that's inhuman."

"That's war, Alin." Tsvetan said grimly, "You either fight or you die. And until a week ago, that was the only life I knew."

Alin was about to reply but the words were shaken from him by a sudden, piercing scream of a siren. The sound wailed on and on, almost ear-splitting with its volume. Alin glanced at Tsvetan in horror.

"They must have heard something through the receiver!" he shouted over the blaring noise, "They know that something's up and they sounded the alarm!"

Tsvetan's hand seemed to clench Alin's all the more tightly at that.

"Then we need to go!" he yelled, "_Now_!"

Together they ran for it. Out of the room through the other door, down a long deserted corridor and emerging into the city at the end. The alarms continued screeching even outside and Alin noticed that the passers by had put their hands over their ears or stopped to watch in confusion. Tsvetan dragged him to the side of the building where they were out of sight.

"Where's the airship?" Alin asked.

"Around the back of the infirmary." He glanced over his shoulder to the streets behind them. "I don't think we'll be able to go unnoticed, will we?"

Alin shook his head. "We're just going to have to run before the guards arrive. Lucky it's so close really."

Once again, they tore across the road, fingers intertwined. People began gasping and shouting and pointing as they ran but Alin blocked them out of his mind. In that moment, he forgot that he was a convicted criminal and that he was supposed to be facing execution in less than twenty minutes. He even forgot that he'd tried to resist Tsvetan taking him. All he knew was to keep running and to keep clinging onto the hand of this beautiful, dangerous man. It was his only chance of survival.

By the time they stumbled around the back of the infirmary, Alin was breathless with a mixture of exhaustion and fear. He doubled over, trying his hardest not to choke while the sweat matted his hair and poured over his cheeks. Only when Tsvetan had double checked that they weren't being pursued did he let go of Alin's hand. The absence made Alin feel strangely lonely.

"Alin! Come on."

Tsvetan placed his hand under Alin's chin, lifting his head. Alin gasped. On the ground in front, an airship awaited their arrival. Its vast deflated airbag spread over the top of the gondola like a cloak and the wooden door nearest to them was already open. Tsvetan stood beside it, gesturing him inside. Without thinking about it, without even considering the consequences of his actions, Alin scrambled in.

The interior of this gondola was significantly smaller than the last one, with only a single room containing both the engine and the piloting controls. Tsvtean took his place immediately behind the wheel.

"Fire up the helium!" he commanded, flicking switches on the dashboard, "It's the cylinder on your left."

There seemed to be nothing _but _cylinders on Alin's left; a series of bronze tubes that towered above him and disappeared out of the celling. Each was connected to a valve at the bottom, presumably to control the air pressure.

"Which one is it?" he asked.

"All of them!" Tsvetan pressed another button and the whirr of propellors sounded outside, "We need to get her off the ground as quickly as possible."

Alin twisted valve after valve until the hiss of moving air echoed through the airship. The gondola lifted off the ground, so abruptly that he lost his footing and knocked his head on pipe behind him.

"Ow! Crap!" he rubbed his head, clinging onto one of the tubes to stay upright while the gondola rocked and rose higher, "It wasn't this bad when we went out yesterday!"

"We weren't attempting anything illegal yesterday, were we?" Tsvetan said smoothly, "And you can turn a few of the valves off now, I think we're high enough."

Alin obeyed and the hissing gradually came to a stop. The floor didn't feel as unsteady either, though he still felt the gondola sway from side to side in the breeze. Coming over to stand by Tsvetan, he peered out of the windscreen. The back of the infirmary was miles below them already, yet still close enough to see that a crowd had gathered around to watch; pointing and waving their arms. Alin wasn't quite sure whether he was imaging it, but he was sure that he recognised a few people in purple uniforms among them. The purple uniforms of the Ryder authorities. The back of his throat turned dry. _They can't hurt me from here, _he reminded himself, _Not while I'm with Tsvetan._

"Well?" Tsvetan glanced up at him from the driver's seat. The steering wheel was poised in his hands. "Are you ready to go?"

Alin tore his eyes away from the windscreen. "Where exactly… are we actually going?"

"Away." he said simply.

Alin nodded. "Let's do it."

* * *

They'd been flying for nearly an hour before the airship came to a stop. Alin was slumped against the back of Tsvetan's chair, dozing with his head lolled forwards for the past fifteen minutes. He jerked awake immediately as he felt the gondola touch the ground lightly.

"Whaaa?" he rubbed his eyes and glanced outside. The sky was so dark by now that it was impossible to see a thing. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere in the mountains." Tsvetan said, "Somewhere _safe_."

Just the way he said that made Alin feel tingly all over. He heard Tsvetan get up behind him and walk over to the cylinders to adjust the pressure valves. Another ongoing hiss from above told him that the airbag was deflating.

"Are we staying here for the night, then?" he asked.

"Yes."

Tsvetan was searching for something else- Alin could tell- looking in behind all the engines and underneath the panels. Yawning, he stretched his arms.

"Damn, I'm tired. Feels like a lifetime since I last slept."

Assassination, trust and betrayal, kidnap, escape from execution… there was certainly enough drama there to last a lifetime. It was no wonder his emotions were draining him.

"I know. That's why I was trying to find- aha!"

Tsvetan emerged from one of the control cupboards, proudly carrying a blanket and a thin mattress. Alin looked at them for a long moment.

"There's only one of each." he said.

Tsvetan blushed. "Y-you can have them. I'll just sleep on the chair."

Alin made a face. "That'd just be uncomfortable. We can share them. I'm used to that sort of thing with Andrei."

Tsvetan placed the mattress on the floor beside the control panel and took off his shoes and jacket. "Right. Okay. Fine."

He seemed almost determined not to look at Alin as he positioned himself on the very end of one side and drew the blankets over himself. Alin squeezed in on the other side, careful to give him a wide birth. As uncomfortable as it was. And as ridiculous.

And as downright _frustrating. _

"Tsvetan…?" he chanced after a moment.

"Mmmmm?"

He turned his head towards him. "We're not _really _going to sleep here all night like this are we? Without touching or hugging or… _anything_?"

For a moment, Tsvetan looked like he was fighting with himself internally. Then, he reached out and rested a hand on Alin's hair. So gently, so uncertainly, like a small child trying hard not to break something precious.

"That depends." he whispered, and Alin couldn't miss the playful tone to his voice, "How tired _are_ you, exactly?"

Alin responded by kissing Tsvetan straight on the mouth. Recklessly and shamelessly and hard enough to suck the breath out of him.

* * *

***You didn't ****_really _****think that I was going to kill him off then, did you? Still, this isn't the end. There's one last chapter to go. And I fear it may not be suited to everyone's tastes.***


	9. My Homeland

***Okay, final chapter here we come! Warning for some NSFW-y references towards the beginning.***

* * *

Alin awoke to the sound of propellers whirring.

With a groan, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He tried to remember what had happened yesterday but his mind was still a blurry haze, like it was coated in honey. There was one thing he was certain of though; last night had been without a doubt the best of his entire life. He closed his eyes again and the glorious details gradually began to resurface. A chorus of needy moans… Tsvetan's cold skin glazed in a layer of sweat… exploring the ins and outs of each other's bodies in the dark of the airship. And that ecstasy when he finally entered Tsvetan, an ecstasy that was so good he never wanted it to end.

Alin grinned and a glow spread through his body. There was nothing quite like waking up to the memory of fucking Tsvetan Borisov all night long.

His hair ruffled under a sudden breeze. Confused, Alin opened his eyes and glanced around; properly this time. His first thought was that he must still be dreaming. When he'd fallen asleep last night it had been on the mattress in the airship, with Tsvetan's naked body nestled against his own. The mattress remained underneath him but everything else had changed. He must have been moved outside since because he was sitting beside a stream at the bottom of a slope. Above him, the mountain loomed ominously. Even stranger, Tsvetan had completely vanished.

Alin flung off the bedcovers and stood up, shivering as the morning chill bit his bare skin. His clothes had been left in a pile at the foot of his bed. He pulled on his pants and shirt as quickly as he could. The rest could wait until he found Tsvetan.

The airship too was nowhere to be seen, but given the soft chugging and hissing in the background, Alin was willing to bet that it was somewhere nearby. He followed the noise, hurrying around an obscuring jut in the mountain to a sheltered hollow behind. There, he saw it.

The airbag had only been slightly inflated and the bottom of the gondola bobbed just above the ground. A man crouched beside it, using a spanner to adjust one of the propellers. He grunted softly as he worked and ran a rand through his coal-black hair. His coal-black hair that was still tousled from the night before.

"Tsvetan!" Alin called.

Tsvtean seemed to freeze before turning. His mouth was gaping and his eyes were wide, like Andrei's when he was caught sneaking food. Alin jogged over.

"Where have you been?" He slipped his hands around Tsvetan's back as he straightened up, "And why did you have to move me? I was comfortable enough where I was, you know!"

Tsvetan didn't respond but let the spanner fall from his hands with a sigh. His body felt wrong to Alin; so rigid and not even softening when he teasingly nipped the side of his neck.

"Alin," Tsvetan breathed, pushing his head away gently, "Alin… don't."

Alin loosened his arms and stepped back, frowning. He recognised that tone of voice and the way he was saying his name. It was the same kind of guilt-ridden, apologetic "Alin…" as the one he'd given him just before killing King Francis the day before. His stomach clenched fearfully.

"What it is?" he demanded. When Tsvetan looked away, he could feel his anger rising. "Tell me damn you! You owe me that much."

Tsvetan bit his lip and fiddled with the hem of this cuff. "Alin, we- we…." he gave himself a determined shake and steadied his voice, "We can't be together."

The words were crippling. Surely far worse than execution or an airship crash could ever be.

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

"I was thinking about it last night, while you were asleep." Tsvetan said, "And as much as I want to… I can't bring you to Hepworth. I just can't."

"Why?" Alin whispered.

Tsvetan shook his head "You've never been there, you don't understand what it's like. Our authorities are so much stricter- they'd find you if we tried to hide. They'd kill us both without a second thought. There are just some things which are sacred to our country. More important than human emotions."

Alin stared at him darkly. He had a very good idea of what Tsvetan was talking about and it made him curl with fury inside.

"This is about duty again, isn't it?"

Duty. The pitfall which caught him just when he thought the path was clear; the chains which bound his desires from the first and refused to let them go. Always, _always_ duty.

"Well… yes. Yes I suppose it is." Tsvetan at least had the grace to meet his eye this time. His gaze was hauntingly poignant. "I have my duties to my country; to my commanders, my fellow soldiers, the families of my fallen brothers. And you have your duties to your country and your people too. Think about Erzsebet, Alin. Think about _Andrei._"

Knowing what it would do to him, Alin tried not to. It was simply impossible. Andrei's face flooded his mind, lost and lonely and shunned by society. Asking Erzsebet when he was going to come back. He blinked the tears away before they properly had a chance to form. The trouble was, he understood what Tsvetan was saying. And as much as he hated himself for it- as utterly heartbroken as it made him feel- Alin agreed with him too.

"I just thought you made your choice," he said bitterly, "I thought you'd already chosen love over duty."

"I did." Tsvetan thrust his hands in his pockets and scuffed the ground with his boot. "But that didn't stop duty from choosing me."

Alin was almost too afraid to open his mouth again; afraid that the knives clawing his throat would release a sob when he tried to speak. Instead, he managed to choke out a splutter of twisted laughter.

"You were thinking of leaving without even telling me?!"

"I'm sorry, Alin." He looked it too, regret lining every inch of his face. "You must know that I didn't want to. I just thought it would make it easier to go home. For both of us."

"How am I supposed to go home now?" Alin demanded, "I'll be an outlaw there, top on their list of most wanted. Thanks to you."

Tsvetan shrugged. "I suppose the only way to get out of it… is also the easiest."

"And what's that?"

"Tell the truth." Tsvetan said.

Alin snorted. "Like anyone's actually going to believe me."

"They will. Erzsebet will back you up for a start and when you take the authorities out to show them the wreckage, the proof will be there. Tell you what, here."

Tsvetan reached under his shirt and pulled out a square piece of metal. Taking it from him, Alin turned it over in his hands. On one side, the words 'Borisov, T.' and 'Pilot' were carved in bold letters. On the other were the numbers '88228'.

"What is this?"

"My identity card. Everyone in the Hepworth army is issued one." Tsvetan said, "You can tell your people that I really did kidnap you and that you had to fight to escape with your life. Maybe in the process you could have pulled this off me or something."

"Yeah, maybe." It was the last thing he wanted to do but Alin slipped the card into his pocket. It was heavier than he's expected, weighing one side of him down.

They were silent for several minutes after that. Both leaning against the swaying gondola and avoiding each others eyes until the closeness became awkward. There were so many things Alin wanted to say but none of them seemed able to form into words. He probably wouldn't have been able to tell Tsvetan those things even if they'd stood there for a hundred years.

Eventually, Tsvetan straightened fully and walked a couple of paces towards the door. He stooped to pick up the spanner.

"Do… do you want me to give you a lift back to Dunning City?" he asked.

Alin shook his head. "That would be too dangerous. These mountains are part of the scouting routes, so I might as well just wait."

"R-right." Tsvetan said, "Well… I'll have to get going now."

He reached for the handle, his dangerous arrow fingers glistening like jewels in the sunlight. On an impulse, Alin snatched his hand away just before it touched the wood. He felt Tsvetan try to tug away immediately but he clung on as hard as he could. His heart was pounding, his head was caught up in a whirlwind and he had no idea what he was doing, or even what he was trying to do. All he knew was that he wasn't prepared to lose this man; this gorgeous, deceitful man whom he barely knew but had somehow taken over his entire life. Not for duty, not for _anything_.

Alin bent his head to kiss him. One final kiss, one final reminder of the perfect lips he feared he might never taste again. When they broke apart, Alin was pleased to see a faint scarlet tinge on Tsvetan's cheeks.

"That was for rescuing me." Alin breathed, caressing his thumb over the blush, "And because it's what I've been wanting to do ever since I lay eyes on you."

Tsvetan looked down. The moisture sparkling in his eyes seemed to bring out the silver colour even more.

"Alin, I'm so sorry…" His voice sounded choked.

"This isn't a parting." Alin said fiercely, as if saying it harder would somehow make it true, "Not for the last time. I'll see you again, Tsvetan. One day."

One day? When would that be? When there wasn't a war on? When they were no longer bound to their respective duties. Both felt so implausible now.

Tsvetan offered him a watery grin. "Yes. One day. But until then… I suppose this will have to be goodbye."

He raised his hand in a faux salute and Alin flicked him one of his own in return. Then he was disappearing into the gondola and the door closed behind him. Alin's throat constricted and he gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to cry, not now. Not over a man who had already caused him so much pain.

The propellers suddenly stared rotating faster and the airbag inflated to its' full capacity. Slowly, the airship began to rise. Alin was buffeted by the tailwinds and the sunlight was half-blinding him, but he forced himself to look up. Tsvetan was only a blurred face behind the windscreen now and fading as the ship ascended higher still. Alin didn't look away once, not even when the tears started to spill over.

In fact, he lingered there, staring at the skies above, even once the airship had disappeared out of sight. The tears stopped after a while but the hurt was still there, making Alin feel numb all over. He tried to soothe it by visualising Andrei and returning to a normal life again but the picture kept on twisting into Tsvetan's face. He supposed that was a good thing, in the long term. He couldn't ever allow himself to forget how devastatingly beautiful it had been.

Alin closed him eyes and let the grief fully wash over him. Yet a glow of hope remained beneath it; a glow which could never allow him to truly despair. He brushed a hand over his damp cheeks and whispered into the wind.

"One day, Tsvetan Borisov." he vowed.

* * *

***One day?**

**One day I might write a sequel in which I hold Alin and Tsvetan to that promise. Or another story in this universe which I never expected to become so invested in. I can see other characters having potential for their own story too. Besides, while Hepworth and Ryder are still at war, the tale is far from over.**

**But for the moment at least, this can be considered...**

**The End.**

**Just want to say a final thank you to everyone who has been reading and supporting this story. It means a lot to me, it really does.**

**'Our Duty' now has a companion story in the means of a sad Giripan one-shot. That can be read here: s/10557083/1/Seven-Swallows. **

**Also, the amazing Republic-of-Yolossia has created a wonderful soundtrack complete with cover-art for 'Our Duty'! Check it out here if you want to: /strudelmugel/i-m-so-sorry *******


End file.
